


Real Things Don't Disappear

by palmsandsunshine



Series: Self-Indulgent OiKage Fics [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Its a lot, M/M, Making Out, Making Up, Memory Loss, Out of Character, Repressed Memories, Sports, Strangers to Lovers, Temporary Amnesia, honestly a lot goes on, inspired by a textpost my friend and i made
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23617033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palmsandsunshine/pseuds/palmsandsunshine
Summary: Kageyama loses his memories from junior high.Oikawa doesn't realize how much he cares until it is too late. Kageyama doesn’t realize how much it hurts to fall in love.Chinese Translationby 33ye!
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru
Series: Self-Indulgent OiKage Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1700014
Comments: 61
Kudos: 614





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is 96% completed as of posting the first chapter... I have all the chapters done and am just working on beefing up the final scene a bit.
> 
> Alright so this entire 30k fic came from ONE (1) text post that I came up with in my mind and it doesn’t make any remote sense, but I couldn’t stop laughing when I first came up with it and then it suddenly exploded into an angsty fic that I _totally don’t regret one bit_ and yeah... here's the post:
> 
>  **Oikawa: wow, playing for another team? you’re such a fucking traitor.**  
>  **Kageyama, genuinely confused: wait,,, _who the fuck are you?_**
> 
> Also, the names change around a lot but that's just depending on who's perspective it is... for example, for Oikawa, Daichi might be referred to as "Sawamura", but Kageyama would refer to him as "Daichi". And I know some people seem OOC but it will all make sense in a bit.
> 
> Enjoy the fic!

>   
>  **Memories of Oikawa Tooru. During his third year of junior high.**
> 
> Tooru looked down at his “Best Setter” award, a heavy and warm feeling settling in his chest. Despite everything—despite Tobio’s skill developing much faster than anyone had anticipated—Tooru managed to stay above him. Maybe once Tobio had another year or so to fine-tune his skill, he would surpass Tooru, but _not yet_. And that’s all that mattered.
> 
> “You, Tobio-chan,” Tooru had said, face a mess of tears at the awards ceremony. He turned around and glared at the younger setter through blurry vision. “You’d better come to Aoba Johsai so I can crush you. And when I finally beat Shiratorizawa, I’ll teach you how to do it, too.”
> 
> Maybe, in three years when they’d finally meet in school again, Tooru would have finally eased up on his hatred. Maybe not. But Aoba Johsai needed a future heir to Tooru’s setter position and out of the younger players, only Tobio’s genius could compete with Tooru’s refined skills. Or, as Hajime said, Tooru would ‘only pass down his role to someone as whipped for volleyball as you are, like Kageyama-kun’ and Tooru would vehemently disagree.
> 
> Hajime rolled his eyes although they were nearly as teary as Tooru’s; “Blow your nose before saying something like that.”
> 
> Tobio, the innocent little dumbass, reached into his pocket and pulled out a package of napkins, holding them out with his tiny hand—the _very tiny_ hands that would _very likely_ rip the “Best Setter” position from Tooru someday. “Would you like a tissue?”
> 
> “Shut up!”
> 
> Tooru was jealous of Tobio. Green with envy and overflowing with poison, which dipped into his bloodstream like talons of ice. He wondered what it was like to be so blessed with natural-born talent and to be _so goddamn_ humble (read: unaware) about it.
> 
> Kageyama Tobio was a mystery.

* * *

Tooru couldn’t help but be delighted that his coach accepted Karasuno’s invite to a practice match. He demanded that Tobio—no, _Kageyama_... that traitorous little shit didn’t deserve to be called by his first name—play as much as possible or else Tooru wouldn’t go. And if Tooru didn’t go, none of the third-years would, either. And the team, with only the second-years plus a handful of sprightly but untrained first-years, would probably not want to play any match at all.

Unfortunately, he had a doctor’s appointment that started at the same time the match would, but that was not much of a problem. He would just borrow his mother’s car and drive it to the Seijoh Gym after his appointment and take extra care with his injured knee during the game. He just hoped he would make it on time to see Tob— Kageyama’s sets in person for the first time in a while.

Despite Tooru absolutely hating the shit out of Kageyama, he still couldn't help but admit his kouhai had an immaculate setting technique and was quite possibly on the way to becoming the best setter in the prefecture with the right training and the right spiker. The "right" training being training directly underneath Tooru so that he could knock him down his high pedestal a few notches and make sure he knew how to take advantage of his team's strengths.

Tobi— _shit_ — _Kageyama_ 's teammates on his junior high school team weren't able to keep up with Kageyama's insane quicks. Somehow they won the first match of the Miyagi Prefecture Junior High Athletics Meet, despite one of the kids on the other team having an insane jumping reach and the most impressive stamina Tooru's seen in a while. They made it through the qualifiers and semi-finals with relative ease. The final match, apparently Kitagawa Daiichi lost, and Tooru just didn't bother to watch the replays on it. From what he heard, one of the players ended up getting injured or something. With Tooru himself suffering from a knee injury, he decided that he just didn’t need that kind of negativity in his life. 

"You're making that face again," Hajime comments, a sigh playing on the edge of his words.

"What face? I'm not making a face," Tooru vehemently denies, the scowl lines embedding themselves deeper into his brow. He turns his head slightly away from his phone camera, as if that would prevent Hajime from reading his body language.

"The face you make when you're about to jump-serve your Calculus textbook into the TV whenever Ushijima's on it," comes the reply through the phone's speakers. Tooru just knew if Hajime were there with him in person, he would probably get a swift smack upside the head for his stupidity.

Still, he protests, drawing out the vowels for as long as humanly possible: " _Iwa-chan_ ~"

In Tooru's mind, Ushijima perfectly deserved a spike to his irritating, perfectly-shaped jawline. Maybe a crooked nose would humble the damned ace for once in his life.

"You're a loser,” Hajime scowls, tapping against the camera of his phone in annoyance a few times, looking like he wanted to reach through the screen and tug on Tooru’s hair for good measure. (He probably did, to be perfectly honest.) “Stop sitting on your behind and get to the practice already. I heard Karasuno's kicking our team's ass."

Tooru scowls once again, the idea of Karasuno returning his mind to Kageyama Tobio and the dumbass' stupid-ass traitorous ass.

(If that made sense… although Hajime-chan would argue _no._ )

"You're doing it again, Kusokawa," Hajime sighs, barely glancing up. It was kind of infuriating how well he knew Tooru after all these years. "I'm going to hang up if you just keep sulking."

Tooru finds himself whining petulantly, pulling up a hand to press the heel of his palm against one of his eyes. He didn't want to step into the gym and be greeted by Tobio's smirking face. He didn't want to be confronted by the idea that Kageyama Tobio was perhaps a better setter than Tooru was... and he did it without Tooru's help.

Tobio ( _Kageyama_ , goddamnit) inflicted a multitude of emotions in Tooru's heart. Irritation, anger, betrayal, and a whole 'nother list of emotions he couldn't even begin to explain.

When Tobi— _FUCK_ — _Kageyama_ kissed Tooru on the day Tooru graduated, one of those unexplainable emotions popped up in his chest. For some reason, that emotion recurred whenever he thought about the younger setter and he _still_ couldn’t put a label to it.

"No, don't hang up— just..." Tooru grunts once, finding himself with a vocabulary too limited to express his complex emotions.

"You're really fucking torn up about this aren't you, Tooru-kun?" Hajime observes after a moment of silence, pencil pausing above the paper he claimed was a Japanese Literature study guide. Tooru knew it was most likely covered in doodles of puppies and flowers instead of kanji. 

"Is it that obvious?" Tooru sighs. Whenever Hajime pulled out the first-name card, he was getting serious. And actually paying attention.

"Kind of," Hajime shrugs, falling out of the camera's frame for a moment as he reaches for something off-screen. "But then again, I've known you since you were in diapers, so—"

"We're the same age, goddamn liar—"

"I am a whole month older than you—"

"A whole month, my ass!"

"Not the point," Hajime interjects, singing a little as he teases, twirling a ballpoint pen in his fingers. "But see, you're perfectly fine if you can argue with me."

"What do I _do_ about Tobio-chan?"

" _Nothing_?" Hajime asks deliberately and rhetorically. "Maybe he made you a promise in junior high school, but that was almost three years ago. He's changed, you've changed, and maybe Karasuno was just the best decision for senior high school. I heard they have a cool biology internship program there since it's near the hospital... maybe he wants to become a doctor or something like that."

Tooru rolls his eyes. Tobio, save for his ‘genius setter’ position, wasn’t smart enough for that. He needed tutoring for most of his classes except for the science ones, and he was especially close to failing both his English Basics and Japanese Literature classes. "Tobio-chan as a doctor. _As if_. But I see your point. I'm still salty about it, though."

"Can you, like, go inside already. You ditched our studying session today; the least you can do is go protect our volleyball team's dignity or something."

"The second-years can't be doing that bad, right?"

Hajime makes a sound that was somewhere between a choke and a guffaw. "I don't know about that. Apparently one of the first-years on the other team can fly... which is, of course, ironic, because they're Karasuno."

"If we get defeated by those fucking ravens I will actually scream, Iwa-chan."

Hajime chuckles and twirls his pencil in his hands, the annoying habit he picked up when he saw a video of it online and had to learn how to do it too. "Please don't; you're annoying enough as-is. And they're crows, not ravens, Kusokawa. Kageyama is on their team, so you never know how the game will turn out."

Kageyama's face turns up in Tooru's mind again.

Tooru scowls once more.

* * *

Usually, any emotions running through Tooru's veins would throw off his jump-serve. He needed total mental halcyon in order to perfect his serve. But it was impossible. With Kageyama's stupid-ass face staring at him from the opposite side of the net, Tooru couldn't feel at peace. He could only feel anger. Not to mention how lacking Seijoh’s team of extras seemed to be, even against a “flightless” team like Karasuno. Tooru hadn’t seen much of the game, but it seemed that even with a weapon like _Kageyama-fucking-Tobio_ in their arsenal, they couldn’t do much more than throw wadded-up pieces of paper at Aoba Johsai’s defense. They lacked a strong offensive cannon and their first-years needed work on receiving.

Not to mention, they didn’t even seem to have a coach. There was a silver-haired player and a pretty girl next to him on Karasuno’s bench and they both held clipboards in their hands, but neither seemed to be old enough to be a coach. They were most likely managers or teammates.

Of the team, Tobio seemed to be the only real standout.

Tooru jumped and spiked the ball with the force of his anger, watching it sail over the net and in the direction of the tall blonde kid who was pretty good at blocking but absolutely _sucked_ _ass_ at digs. The angle and speed of the ball sent it ricocheting off the poor first-year’s forearms and off the court in no time.

Tooru stepped forward towards the net to receive the ball for another serve, when Kageyama caught his eye. The brat wasn’t even doing anything spectacular, like serving or spiking or posing. He was _just fucking standing there_. Tobio’s face was kept carefully blank, although he shone with sweat and he pulled heavy breaths in through his mouth. Recalcitrant and detached. For some reason it made Tooru want to explode.

A sneer playing on his lips, he spun the ball in his hands and glared right at Kageyama and his infuriating face, “Finally found a team that accommodates you, you fucking traitor?”

But Kageyama doesn’t snarl back like Tooru expected. He doesn’t even glare or scoff like normal.

He blinks once. Twice.

Then a precious, sheepish smile comes on his face as he reaches up to place a hand on the back of his neck, the red of his cheeks a nice contrast to the barely-there tan of his hand.

Tooru wants to scream because _what the fuck Tobio never does that gesture and oH MY GOD IS TOBIO-CHAN BLUSHING—_

Tooru never realized he had gotten familiar with Tobio’s idiosyncracities and was pondering if this was really _Kageyama Tobio_ and not… _I don’t fucking know_ , Kageyama Tenya, Tobio’s identical twin who never went to Kitaichi and who never showed up for games or something stupid like that. But the brat never mentioned a twin brother… and he would mention something important like that to someone important like Tooru, right?

(Wait, when did Tooru become “someone important” to Tobio?)

And yes, the brat blushed on the off chance he was caught off-guard during a match—which never happened because as clumsy as he was, he had the best hand-eye coordination the Japanese islands had ever seen—but he never did it _in front of Tooru, either_. Tooru was seriously thinking Tobio was pulling his dick or something like that.

Then the brat opens his mouth to speak.

“Ah… sorry, have we met before?”

_What. The. Fuck._

Tooru’s fingers went numb. Tobio was good at many things: volleyball, running, memorizing, strategizing. Acting— _lying_ —was _not_ one of his strong-suits. This was completely serious.

Which only serves to make Tooru more confused.

“Tobio-chan, what are you—”

“Ignore him, Yama-kun,” the red-head Chibi said, eyes narrowing at Tooru. He curls a hand around Tobio’s bicep, tugging the setter away from the net and back to his spot. “He’s obviously not worth your time if he insults you so easily.”

Tobio lets himself be tugged, but keeps his head turned to Tooru as he spoke; “I’m really sorry if I forgot you and you were, like, a childhood friend or something...”

Tobio was gesticulating with his hands. Violently. Like he wanted to speak but the words wouldn’t come out fast enough so he had to manually pull them out using his hands. Tooru was barely focusing on Tobio’s words because the fact that _Tobio is using his hands to speak_ made him a little winded. And Tobio—the entire Kageyama family, in general—tended to be taciturn when it came to social situations. The fact that he was _rambling_ was just… unthinkable?

“...but my captain said you were the captain of Seijoh’s team, so we probably were never that close since you’re already a third-year. Are you also from Kitagawa—”

The referee blows the whistle and starts the countdown from eight seconds once Tobio is in his spot but Tooru wasn’t even in place to serve yet.

With his mind elsewhere and his concentration completely shattered, Tooru’s next serve doesn’t have nearly as much control as it should have. But the power behind the hit had it ricocheting off the poor blond middle-blocker’s upper arm and up into the second floor somewhere.

“Goddamnit,” he curses, trying to regain his awareness of his body. His fingers still feel numb and he didn’t have enough control of the ball. The next time the tall, blonde middle-blocker received the ball, it soared up towards the ceiling and though it sailed over the net towards their side of the court, Tooru still found it annoying that his emotions got the better of him.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he curses. One of the poor first-years that Tooru didn’t really talk to glances over with concerned eyes but Tooru just waves him off and calls for the ball. He didn’t really feel in the mood to set or spike the ball, or really even just play the match anymore.

He just wanted to call Iwaizumi ASAP.

The first and second-years got the ball back over the net but a Karasuno member digs the receive and sends it to Tobio.

Tooru was kind of excited, momentarily forgetting his confusion at the previous conversation. He hadn’t seen Tobio play in a game since they were still in junior high school together and judging from all the stories he had heard from Kitaichi alumni, Tobio’s sets were _horrible_. Tooru never understood because even _he_ could acknowledge Tobio’s talent past a lens of hatred and jealousy.

And Tobio’s sets _were_ perfect. At least, that’s how they were when Tooru graduated. Never too fast, never too high, always in the perfect spot to avoid blockers. His tosses were textbook. Predictable. But solid, nevertheless.

The Chibi-chan who had never really done anything interesting up to that point—not that Tooru had been paying attention other than a few quick glances to ascertain the strengths and weaknesses of Karasuno’s team—runs up to the net at full speed. 

Just as he was about to look away, the rushing of air past his face stuns Tooru and he glances back to the redheaded little Chibi-chan so that their eyes met while his stupid little brown eyes met Tooru’s. The little midget has this triumphant little grin on his face and his arm extended like he had just spiked a ball. 

It took the gasps of bystanders on the second floor for Tooru to realize that, yes, the Chibi spiked the ball at light-speed and, yes, _Karasuno_ , a worthless public school from a neighboring mountain, just won against _Aoba Johsai_ , one of the top four teams in the Miyagi Prefecture.

As Karasuno celebrates their win, the Chibi-chan and Tobio at the center of their celebratory mosh-pit, Tooru found himself, once again, overflowing with envy of Kageyama Tobio’s volleyball talent.

But it still raises the question—is this even the Kageyama Tobio that Tooru knew?

* * *

Kusokawa: help

Kusokawa: i need help

Iwa-chan: you always run to me when you need something.

Kusokawa: no i dont!

Kusokawa: ok maybe i do

Kusokawa: but this is more serious than me deciding on a sweater i swear

Iwa-chan: that’s what you said last time.

**Kusokawa is calling Iwa-chan**

* * *

>   
>  **Memories of Hinata Shouyou. During his third year of junior high.**
> 
> “Shou-chan! That’s Kitagawa Daiichi. They’re one of the top four junior high teams in the Prefecture.”
> 
> “Wow. They’re all so tall…” And Shouyou didn’t feel the slightest bit jealous of their height. Not at all. “We’re not playing them, right?”
> 
> “Nope! But if we win our first match, we will!”
> 
> “Hinata-san!” One of the first-years called, pointing to one of the Kitagawa Daiichi members standing off to the side, away from the rest of his team. He had a glare resting on his face as he waited for his turn to warm-up. “That’s Kageyama Tobio. He’s one of the best setters here today. People call him ‘ _King of the Court_ ’ because he’s so good.”
> 
> “Wow…” Shouyou wanted people to call him something cool, too. Like ‘ _The Little Giant_ ’. Maybe if they won their matches. And the whole tournament. “We’re gonna beat him, guys!”
> 
> “Good luck with that, Shou-chan,” Izumin sighed. “He’s probably thinking of winning nationals with his talent. And our first opponent is Shiratorizawa Junior High Academy.”
> 
> “...are they good?”
> 
> “Shouyou! Even _I_ know they’re the best in the Prefecture!”
> 
> “What?! Why so soon?!”
> 
> “Junior high school tournaments don’t have seeded schools, Kouji!”

* * *

“Kageyama-kun, did you know that big, scary setter from Aoba Johsai?”

Tobio gives Hinata a ‘ _seriously_ ’ glance and continues sipping away at his milk carton, too utterly transfixed by yesterday’s practice match himself to enunciate a coherent answer. 

“I mean, it’s kind of a given,” Hinata mumbles to himself when Tobio didn’t answer. “After all, Oikawa-san seems to be the only one who knows you other than those two first years who don’t even want to look you in the eye. Did they come from Kitagawa Daiichi, too?”

“I think so,” Tobio mumbles, cracking his neck even though he knew it wasn’t healthy for him. He sees a trashcan by one of the classroom doors, tossing his empty carton into it with perfect aim. “I think I recognize them from my team pictures in junior high. Oikawa-san looks familiar as well.”

“Tsukishima didn’t go to Kitaichi, right?”

“I’m pretty sure he didn’t. Idiot.”

Hinata huffs. “Whatever.”

“I think he said he went to Amemaru Junior High. With Yamaguchi-kun, of course.”

“That sounds familiar. Do they have a good team?”

“They did a few years ago, I think. After that, they’ve stayed near the top. Not in the top four like Chidoriyama, Seikoudai, Kitaichi, and Shiratorizawa, but close to it,” Tobio suddenly recalls one of the old match brackets he looked over a few weeks back. “I think in my last year, though, Amemaru beat Seikoudai to get into the top four during the tournament. Then they lost against Kitaichi when my team played them.”

A brief flash of blue uniforms, stained by the wisps of Tobio’s failing memory, comes to mind. Before Tobio can dig deeper, though, the memories disappear in a smoky haze. Tobio huffs. Those annoying little blips in his memory have started showing up more often.

“So did you meet Tsukishima before?”

“...maybe during the match, but I don’t we’ve had an actual conversation before this year.”

“Then why does he get that stupid look on his face whenever the two of you talk about volleyball.”

“He always has that stupid look on his face,” Tobio mutters under his breath, tossing his emptied carton off to the side. He, too—even as dense as he was—recognized the discrete glances that Tsukishima would send his way whenever they weren’t talking, and the silences Tsukishima would fall into when they _were_ talking. And he would always cut off his own sentences and remedy them although Tobio _knew_ he was too damn smart to ever stutter over his words as often as he did.

“You’re mean, Kageyama-kun,” Hinata said, even though he giggles a little himself. “I want you to say that to his face during practice.”

“No way in hell!”

Hinata suddenly jumps in front of Tobio, halting their movement. “What if he knows something from before that he’s not telling you.”

“No shit, idiot,” Tobio rolls his eyes. “There’s _obviously_ something he’s not telling us. I dunno, I probably met him during a match in junior high and he resents me for beating him.”

“You’re so full of yourself.”

“Don’t I have the right to be?” 

Hinata’s mouth snaps shut, nothing left to retaliate. Tobio felt a strange wave of satisfaction rush through his system. 

“Anyways, I can’t stay late today to practice our quick after the scheduled practice,” Tobio changes the subject, side-stepping Hinata and continuing the walk to the club room.

“ _Whaaat_? Why not?!”

“I went to the hospital again last night for another checkup,” he sighs, kicking a pebble out of his way. “Sawamura-sensei says I’m almost one-hundred percent again but I should take a break just to be sure. Especially because of yesterday’s tiring practice match. And I have one more checkup because they couldn’t get all the tests done last night.”

“So that means your tosses could get even better?” _Of course_ that was the one thing he heard from the entire explanation.

“I guess,” Tobio shrugs even though the movement agitated his shoulders and neck. He felt much too decrepit for his age.

“That’s so unfair. You’re like a volleyball god.”

“ _Ew_. Praise coming from you feels so gross.”

“Shut up, Baka-geyama-sama.”

“...you’re an idiot.”

“Shit-for-brains.”

“Says the one who failed his last English test.”

“You failed Japanese Lit.! It’s _literally_ Japanese!”

They fell into bickering easily, pushing each other around until they got to the stairs.

“Kageyama!” Daichi calls as soon as Tobio and Hinata enter the club room. The other members that had already arrived were scattered around the room and immersed in their own discussions. “How did your appointment go with my Oka-san last night? She mentioned that you’re almost fully recovered.”

“My injuries are, yes, but my…” Tobio trails off and both he and Daichi wince simultaneously. “I can run pretty much full speed and my endurance is slowly getting back to what it was. She just told me to take it easy for a few days.”

“A few days?!” Hinata whines, throwing on his gym shirt. “You told me it was only tonight!”

“Don’t rush Kageyama’s recovery, Hinata,” Suga hums from his spot on the floor, a wide variety of textbooks and notebooks strewn around him. “It’s better to take it slow than to risk it.”

Tobio stuck his tongue out at Hinata and the little redhead reciprocates before turning back to his locker to change out of his uniform slacks. 

“I was looking through some of my old yearbooks from junior high. I started in my third-year and got halfway through it. Two of the first-years at Aoba Johsai were my classmates at Kitaichi. The ones who acted kind of weird around me. Kunimi and Kindaichi.”

“Turnip-head!” Hinata adds not-so-helpfully, his smile wide as ever. 

“Good afternoon.” All heads turn to the door to greet Tsukishima and Yamaguchi as they enter the club room.

“I asked my Ka-san if I was close with them,” Tobio continues. “She didn’t give me a straight answer.”

Suga begins packing away his notebooks. “Maybe she doesn’t really know herself. But it does seem strange for them to be avoiding you so much if there’s no history.”

“Do they know what happened?” Daichi asks, sinking to the floor beside Suga and helping to gather up the loose pages. A few more of the second years enter the room, led by Ennoshita. After greeting the rest of the team with a bow of his head, Daichi met Tobio’s gaze with curious eyes.

“Probably. They were on the volleyball team with me. They _have_ to know.”

“They know,” Tsukishima cut in, opening his locker. “Trust me, they know.”

“Well, what do _you_ know, Tsukki-kun,” Tobio retorts. His relationship with Tsukishima was rocky, to say the least, but they would trade friendly banter almost as often as Hinata and Tobio did. They didn’t spend much time around one another outside of practice, but it wasn’t like they _couldn’t bear_ one another.

Tsukishima scoffs. “Have you idiots ever stopped to think that maybe elites like Kitagawa Daiichi brats don’t care for anyone other than their stupid, self-centered shitty—”

“Tsukishima,” the warning tone in Daichi’s voice made the air in the room icy. All the other conversations stop; even Tanaka and Nishinoya, usually the oblivious ones, in the corner. “You don’t know the full story.”

Tobio couldn’t move. Daichi was one of the few people who could legitimately scare the crap out of him, along with Hinata when he was serious about something and his mother when he didn’t wash the dishes before bed. But most of all, Tobio was dumbfounded that Daichi was scolding _Tsukishima_ of all people.

“No, I suppose I don’t,” Tsukishima sighs, though his tone held an undercurrent of malice and resentment. 

He places his workout uniform back in his locker and picks up his bag, closing the locker door with a rather normal level of strength, rather than slamming it like Tobio had expected. His expression looks as passive as ever when he turns around to face everyone. Yamaguchi has a pensive look on his face as he studies his best friend’s expression.

He bows at the waist, deeper than any of them had ever seen him go before. “I apologize, but I think I’m going to go home early. I don’t feel very well.”

Without waiting for a response, he strides towards the door and exits the club room, letting the door shut under its own momentum. Yamaguchi is the first person to break the silence, much to everyone’s surprise.

“So… are we going to practice today, or what?”

* * *

Kageyama Tobio: u ok?

Tsukishima: What do you mean?

Kageyama Tobio: u seemed a little off today

Kageyama Tobio: like… when u stormed off

Tsukishima: I’m fine, Kageyama. Thanks for asking, though.

Tsukishima: Just angry about a few things.

Kageyama Tobio: aight… if u say so

Tsukishima: Mmhm

* * *

>   
>  **Memories of Kageyama Tobio. During his third year of junior high school, and last spring volleyball tournament.**
> 
> “Get that block up!”
> 
> _Kita...ichi! One more point!_
> 
> Tall, grey shadows lined his vision. He couldn’t see past them—they were like the tall hedges in front of his daycare that Grandpa would peek over every morning after dropping him off. But unlike the dark hedges, these shadows weren’t friendly.
> 
> “Watch the cross shot!”
> 
> A sudden blur of movement, an urgent shove to the left. The shadows were close—when did the shadows get so close?
> 
> _Kita...ichi! One more point!_
> 
> “Watch it—”
> 
> _Fight-oh, fight-oh, fight-oh!_
> 
> “Careful—”
> 
> The shadows closed in.
> 
> “Watch it!”
> 
> “No—”
> 
> “ _Kageyama._ ”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tooru’s mother reached forward to pull her into a tight hug, offering as much support as she could at that moment. The world seemed to slow down and mesh, like the crashing waves of the ocean against a cliff played at half-speed.  
> Tooru was lost in the waves. He couldn’t breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i kind of break the rules of doctor-patient confidentiality but just ignore that real quick and everything's fine :)

> **Memories of Iwaizumi Hajime. At the end of his second year of high school.**
> 
> “Have you heard about Kitaichi’s Volleyball team?”
> 
> Hajime grunted in acknowledgment, keeping his eyes glued to the anime on the TV. His father rustled around in the kitchen with his newspaper. 
> 
> “Kitaichi made it to the finals against Shiratorizawa, even though they didn’t use their main setter.”
> 
> “What happened to their setter?” Hajime asked, oblivious to the saddened tone of his father’s voice.
> 
> “An injury. In the final set against Amemaru, he was taken out of the game. They lost badly against Shiratorizawa Junior Academy. It seemed the lead from their previous setter was the only thing keeping them afloat.”
> 
> Hajime snorted once, shaking his head, the memories flooding his mind. Kageyama always managing to throw his balled-up trash into a distant trashcan without fail. Kageyama always knowing the best places to toss to, to avoid a block. Kageyama figuring out the other team’s strategies almost as well as Oikawa could, even at two years younger. “Kageyama-kun’s a beast.”
> 
> “You know him?”
> 
> “He’s Oikawa’s protégé,” Hajime said simply, shrugging as he did so. “But with a lot more patience and talent. He’s pro-material, Papa.”
> 
> “Such a shame,” his father mumbled, but Hajime didn’t hear it over the sound of the anime’s soundtrack playing. Later, Hajime will hear about the big injury that halted a semi-finals match in the junior high circuit, but he wouldn’t think too much of it. He had bigger things to worry about, like how much Oikawa was going to complain about the upcoming training camps, or how well he was going to do on his English test next week.

* * *

“It was _so fucking weird,_ Iwa-chan!” Tooru whines, throwing himself on Hajime’s futon and burying his face in the pillow. “He didn’t remember me _at all_. Like, not even a little bit. Just a ' _When the fuck did I meet you_?’ like I was a complete stranger!”

“I’m pretty sure Kageyama doesn’t curse. At least, not that casually and to a complete stranger—”

“But I’m not a _stranger_!” Tooru laments, pounding on the pillow with his fists like a misbehaving child throwing a tantrum. He doesn’t know why he feels so strongly about this issue when before, he would’ve been delighted to have Tobio completely forget about him.

“Apparently, you are.”

Hajime answers as monotonously as ever, scribbling away at his physics homework. He doesn’t even grace Tooru with so much as a look in his direction! Tooru grunts again, shoving his face into Hajime’s pillow so he could whine without his best friend hearing and getting annoyed.

“Stop whining into my pillow, Kusokawa. It’ll smell like you when I try to sleep and then I’ll get nightmares.”

“Rude!” Tooru hisses, throwing said pillow at Hajime’s face with the full force of his spiking hand.

He’s pissed to find that Hajime simply tilts his head and easily avoids the pillow without so much as a glance in Tooru’s direction. He rolls over onto his back, glaring at Hajime’s profile as he continues to do his homework, whilst still faithfully ignoring Tooru.

_What was new?_

“I just don’t get it, Iwa-chan,” Tooru grunts, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, ignoring the way it made his contacts feel. “I know I was an asshole to him, but I don’t think he’s faking. And I doubt he could forget me—and I’m not just being self-centered about that!”

“I know you’re not.”

Weird. Hajime rarely agrees so easily.

“Is he _that_ angry at me?”

Hajime doesn’t answer, although his pencil does stop moving across his worksheet so Tooru knows he was ruminating. There were few times that Hajime’s words didn’t cut deep with insults or taunts, but he was surprisingly a thoughtful and eloquent speaker. He just tended to lose his temper (or, as Tooru likes to phrase it, “let loose”) around Tooru more than he does with other people.

“I don’t think it’s that,” Hajime states after a long, contemplative silence. “I think it’s something more. There are things we might’ve missed when we left. After all, we didn’t really come back to Kitaichi after we graduated. You should ask the first-years if it’s really getting you this riled up. Maybe they know something.”

Tooru thinks back to the way the first-years from Kitaichi—especially Kunimi and Kindaichi—seemed to follow Tobio’s every move faithfully, sometimes even watching him instead of the ball. Until Tobio’s gaze crept in their direction, and they would look away, pretending not to be aware.

_Scared?_ No, more like… _guilty._

_But of what_?

“This is all so confusing,” Tooru said, huffing. Hajime just hums, confirming his thought, his pencil scratches filling the empty air with a gentle rhythm.

Kageyama Tobio—and everything around him, it seemed—was still a mystery to Tooru.

* * *

> **Memories of Sawamura Daichi. Between his second and third year at Karasuno High School.**
> 
> “I have a new patient today.”
> 
> Daichi sighed, placed his book down on the table, and looked over at his Oka-san. She often told him about her cases at work and, like a good son, he listened to each one of them. Even if they were boring and a bit depressing. “Another old grandpa forgetting his wife’s name?”
> 
> “No. It’s a kid this time. He’s going into his first year of senior high.”
> 
> “Oh?” Daichi sat up in his seat, immediately invested in the tale. “I didn’t know kids could get dementia so young.”
> 
> Oka-san sighed and rubbed at her brow, staring down at the open binder which held her patient’s information. “It’s not dementia, or any other disease for that matter. It’s an amnesia case.”
> 
> “So… what happened?”
> 
> “Head and neck trauma,” his mother said. Daichi immediately winced. He had gotten a concussion once before in junior high school because of a stray volleyball spike, but nothing like _this_. “His injury happened three months ago. He’ll make a full recovery, but he was unconscious for two weeks and he can’t remember much of his life past elementary school, even though he’s healing well. I think it’s more than just a physical problem, but I’m not a psychiatrist.”
> 
> Daichi made a face. “So he’s a high-schooler with the maturity of a toddler.”
> 
> “No, he’s quite mature. He just can’t remember his experiences. He couldn’t remember his youngest cousin exists, for example, but he knows he just turned fifteen. He’s from a little ways north of here—by Aoba Johsai mountain—but since the hospitals are better here closer to Rikudo University and the Shiratorizawa schools, his parents looked for a specialist in the area and decided to move here. I thought the case would be a good change from elderly people, huh?”
> 
> “Does that mean he’s going to Karasuno?” Daichi returned to his book as his mother opened one of the cupboards to get a stack of plates. Unless the kid was going to Shiratorizawa… but that would be unlikely. Shiratorizawa was a private boarding school, with dorms and everything, so there would be no point in moving the entire family with the kid. And entering a top-league college prep course with no real memory of the past few years… would probably be impossible unless the kid was a genius of some sort. 
> 
> “I think so. When I talked to him and his parents, they said he played volleyball at Kitagawa Daiichi. He was the starting setter before his accident,” Oka-san set a few plates at the table, nudging Daichi as she passed him. She kept talking to herself, thinking aloud. “Maybe he could play on your team. It would give him a routine, which is usually good for dementia patients… I’m not so sure about amnesia patients, but it couldn’t hurt to try.”
> 
> Daichi’s eyes widened. “Kitagawa Daiichi?! That’s probably the second best junior high team in the prefecture right now. And he was a starter?!”
> 
> “That’s what they told me. His name’s Kageyama Tobio.”
> 
> “Kageyama Tobio… I think I know who he is.”
> 
> _Kageyama Tobio…_ Daichi would have to look his name up in the rosters to see his stats. Maybe Karasuno would rise to victory once more!

* * *

“You _know_ you’re not supposed to overwork yourself, Tooru! Especially with that sprain of yours from last week,” his mother scolds, her driving slightly unstable as she steered the car down the windy mountain roads. “I know it’s a minor sprain, but you still have to let it heal! Otherwise your knee might get worse!”

“I know, I know!” He exclaims, holding the ice pack to his ankle as he pouts. “I’m sorry you had to drive me all the way to the hospital. I would’ve asked Iwa-chan, but he’s busy tonight.”

His mother huffs, a single, concluding puff of air that seemed to emanate from her gut, outwards. 

“I’m not angry because of that,” she said, calmer than before, pulling into Shiratorizawa General Hospital’s parking lot. “I’m angry because you’re not being careful, even though you know you’re supposed to be. It’s irresponsible, Tooru.”

“Yes, Mama,” he says obediently. “Can you get my crutches from the backseat for me?”

His mother rolls her eyes, mumbling something under her breath about ungrateful children and stepping out of the driver’s seat. 

Tooru made his way into the hospital behind his mother, still dressed in his tracksuit, his right pant leg pulled up to just below his knee so that his wrapped ankle was exposed. The crutches made him feel awkward, but he supposed that was his punishment for not being careful.

“Your physician will be free in twenty minutes,” his mom says, walking to the hospital cafeteria. “I’m going to get myself a coffee. Do you want anything?”

“A milk bread?”

“Anything but that.”

“ _Mama_!” Tooru whines.

“Choku-san? Tooru-kun?” a voice calls from one of the tables. Tooru swivels his head to the source of the voice.

“Kaori-san? Is that you?” his mom asks, her tone scooping upwards. “I haven’t seen you since Tooru graduated from Kitaichi!”

“It’s been a while,” the woman says, picking up her drink and purse from the table and walking over to join Tooru and his mother in line. “I don’t know if you remember me, Tooru-kun. I’m Kageyama Kaori. Tobio’s mother,” she holds out her hand.

Tooru is too stunned to respond, simply taking her hand and shaking it. He looks her in the eyes—and then vaguely realizes her eyes are the exact same navy-blue-almost-black that Tobio’s is.

“I think the last time I saw you in person was at the awards ceremony for your last junior high volleyball tournament,” Kaori muses, taking a sip of her drink. “It’s good to see you again, Tooru-kun, although I suspect that these weren’t the best circumstances,” she adds, pointedly glancing down at his injured ankle.

“Do you work here, Kaori-san?” Tooru’s mom asks.

“No!” Kaori exclaims, laughing at the mere idea. “I’m not smart enough to be a medical worker. I’m a chef at a restaurant in Sendai City. I’m here because Tobio had his weekly checkup with a specialist.”

“Weekly checkup? Why not just do it at the clinic down the street from Aoba Johsai if it’s that often?”

Kaori’s eyes widen. “Did you not hear, Choku-san? Tobio’s father and I moved into this neighborhood a few months ago. This is the closest clinic—well, hospital—to us, now. That’s partly why Tobio didn’t go to Seijoh… Karasuno’s the closest school that didn’t require dorms. Although, Shiratorizawa seemed like an okay idea.”

“You live near _Shiratorizawa_?” Tooru asks, incredulous. The property value of the houses in that area were _through the roof_. Sure, Tooru couldn’t speak, as his family owned a house close to Aoba Johsai, another top private school, but Shiratorizawa had a different kind of reputation. While Seijoh was well-known in the prefecture, Shiratorizawa was well-known in the entire _nation_. It was Miyagi’s premier school, which filtered into one of the best universities in the _world_ , Rikudo, a school whose sports players often fed into the professional leagues.

And actually, Tooru’s dream school. _If only Ushiwaka wasn’t nearly guaranteed to go there… then it would be perfect_.

“Yes, somewhat,” Kaori hums. “We had the money, and the doctors recommended that Tobio be comfortable in his environment. And we wanted to live near the hospital so that Tobio would have all the resources he needs. We're closer to Karasuno than Shiratorizawa.”

“Resources for what?” Tooru’s mother asks.

“Neurologists and psychologists,” she answers, which did not serve to answer their questions in the slightest.

Tooru squints. “No offence, Kageyama-san, but I have no clue what you’re talking about. Why does Tobio-chan need specialists?”

Kaori gasps and covers her mouth. “Did you not hear about it in the news. Oh, dear, I’m so sorry. It was everywhere a few months ago—my sister in _Kyoto_ even saw it on her local news channel—so I just assumed—”

“That’s quite alright, Kaori-san,” Tooru’s mother cuts in, placatingly. “We just don’t pay much attention to the news.”

_But Tooru was wishing he really did watch the news, in that moment_.

Kaori takes a deep breath, calming herself down. Before she speaks, she opens her mouth and pauses, as if reliving a painful memory. Hesitantly, she begins to speak.

She broke off into a sob, smothering the sound into her palm. Tooru’s mother reached forward to pull her into a tight hug, offering as much support as she could at that moment. The world seemed to slow down and mesh, like the crashing waves of the ocean against a cliff played at half-speed.

Tooru was lost in the waves. He couldn’t breathe.

* * *

Kusokawa: did u know tobio-chan had an accident

Iwa-chan: huh?

Kusokawa: did u know he was injured

Kusokawa: in middle school

Kusokawa: during the semi-finals, he was part of a three-man block and the others fell on top of him

Kusokawa: he fractured his neck and hit his head on the floor

Iwa-chan: oh shit

Kusokawa: thats why he lost hs memory

Kusokawa: thats why he doesnt remember shit

Kusokawa: he was in a coma for two. weeks.

Kusokawa: i saw his mom at the hospital when i got my ankle checked up and she told us everything

Kusokawa: shit

Iwa-chan: u ok?

Kusokawa: no

Kusokawa: my ankles fine btw

Kusokawa: but i feel like such an asshole

Iwa-chan: yd he move to karasuno?

Kusokawa: the hospitals near shiratorizawa are better n stuff

Iwa-chan: ah

Kusokawa: his mom said that he wasn't able to play volleyball for over a month after waking up because his neck was still healing

Kusokawa: and he still had to do physical therapy

Kusokawa: i dont know what to do, hajime

Iwa-chan: fix it, tooru

Kusokawa: easier said than done

Iwa-chan: ur only ability is talking ur mouth off

Iwa-chan: put it to use, idiot

* * *

> **Memories of Kageyama Kaori. During Kageyama Tobio’s last volleyball tournament.**
> 
> Tears. Too many tears to count. One shed on the stands, one in the ambulance, one into the palms of her hands, one into her husband’s shoulder.
> 
> One more into her son’s cold, unmoving hands at the hospital.
> 
> Blinking wearily at the heart monitor, refusing to look away for a single second. The heart monitor told her Tobio was alive even though he didn’t look it. Tobio was a young boy, full of sound and life and light. 
> 
> It didn’t feel right to see him so still, pale, and lifeless. His face was nearly the same color as the bandages wrapped around his head.
> 
> Other people came and went. Kaori didn’t pay them much attention. She could only watch the heart monitor go beep beep beep and the respirator right next to it rise up and down, up and down in time with the up and down of Tobio’s chest.
> 
> Immobile he stayed, even though the doctors told her he was healthy and should wake up. The only signs he was alive were the breaths pulled into his lungs and the heartbeat, strong against Kaori’s fingertips.
> 
> She sat there, running her hands through Tobio’s hair, wishing her only son would wake up and, in turn, wake her up from her own nightmare. She didn’t know what she would do without her son.
> 
> No one brought her joy like her son.
> 
> Tobio stayed under for two weeks, one of which was medically-induced. The other week, the doctors didn’t know when he would wake up. So Kaori stayed at the hospital, sleeping in the uncomfortable plastic chair by Tobio’s bedside, in case he woke up in the middle of the night.
> 
> Long days of waiting, and waiting. They only seemed to grow longer.
> 
> One morning—one completely random morning—all seemed to be right with the world. The sun seemed brighter, the sky seemed bluer, and the entire world was happy and right.
> 
> Somehow, Kaori’s mood was high throughout the entire day, even as she watched the up and down of Tobio’s chest again and again. Only this time, something was different—the rhythm was a bit off. The heart monitor’s steady beep beep beep became more frantic, faster and faster. Kaori stood up from her seat, leaning over her only son.
> 
> Tobio opened his eyes.
> 
> Yes, she whispered, just loud enough to hear over the beeping of the cardiac monitor, brushing her precious son’s bangs out of his still-cloudy and confused eyes. She reached blindly for the button by his bedside, pressing desperate kisses to his forehead, mindful of the bandages wrapped on one side.
> 
> Even when the doctors rushed in and pulled her away from his side to check his vitals and reflexes, Kaori’s mood didn’t deteriorate. The tears streamed out of her eyes as she called her husband and watched her baby boy scan the room with the sapphire eyes he inherited from her.
> 
> _Tobio opened his eyes._

* * *

After practice that day, even Tobio had to admit he was spent. But somehow, Hinata was still jumping around like crazy, babbling Tobio’s ear off about whatever crazy receive he had been able to pull off. Tobio kept his eyes glued to the ground, just in front of where his feet would step, nodding and humming at all the appropriate times to prove he was still listening to Hinata.

That is, until Hinata’s babble cut off abruptly and the tiny middle-blocker stopped walking his bike alongside Tobio.

“Seijoh’s setter?”

Tobio stops mid-stride. 

“Oikawa-san?”

Leaning against Karasuno’s front gates, Oikawa Tooru stands in his Aoba Johsai tracksuit, his bag slung over a shoulder and his face kept carefully blank as he meets Tobio’s eyes.

“Oikawa-san,” Hinata began, bowing his head as a sign of respect, although his stony voice denoted anything _but_ respect. “We didn’t expect to see you here. Isn’t Seijoh a little far?”

Oikawa pushes off the gate, stalking towards the two first-years, his eyes never leaving Tobio’s. In all honesty, the look in his eyes made Tobio want to run away or sink into the ground, but his feet kept themselves rooted in place.

“I’m here to talk to Tobio, Chibi-chan,” Oikawa said, directly in front of Tobio. “If you could leave us alone, thanks.”

Hinata was normally a scaredy-cat when it came to confronting older, taller people, but for some reason, his protective streak kicked in when it came to Tobio. Hinata stood his ground, eyes defiant and fiery. For once, Tobio wished that Hinata would just shut up and be quiet.

“I always walk home with Kageyama-kun, Oikawa-san. And with all due respect, you’re a complete stranger and I don’t trust you with my best friend.”

The swell of pride within Tobio’s chest was kept at bay with the dark look that burst in Oikawa’s pupils. Belatedly, Tobio began to worry for Hinata’s safety.

“I’m Tobio-chan’s senpai, Chibi,” Oikawa hisses, finally turning his heavy gaze to Hinata. His eyes promised pain and suffering if the defiance continued. Like a true powerhouse player, he tilts his chin up, daring Hinata to try once more. “I just need to talk to him a little bit about Kitagawa Daiichi. No worries.”

“Hinata-kun,” Tobio met Hinata’s eyes. “It’s fine. Just go. _Please_.”

With a long, contemplative gaze, Hinata nods and walks his bike through the gates, taking the road until he disappears down the hill, the handles of his bike grasped tightly in white-knuckle fists.

“You don’t remember Kitagawa Daiichi at all, I heard,” Oikawa began.

“From who?”

“Your mom and mine are friends,” Oikawa shrugs, as if that explained everything. “I was your senpai at the school. You always asked me to teach you my serve.”

Tobio’s eyes light up. “Is that where I learned to jump-serve? After I was able to exercise again, that was one of the first things I did. It was like muscle memory for me.”

“No, I never taught you. But you figured it out yourself after watching me.”

“Oh.”

Tobio resorts to looking down at his toes again, avoiding Oikawa-san’s eyes. He didn’t really know why Oikawa had come to him. He seemed to know about the accident. But he also seemed… angry. Furious, even. But the anger was kept buried under his skin, perfectly concealed under a blank face. And that made it even scarier.

Another memory flashes before Tobio’s eyes—imperfect, like all the rest of them—tinted with a smoky grey and not entirely filled in. It’s more like a collection of old, faded photographs than an HD video. This memory is of a younger Oikawa—maybe from middle school—with a haunted look in his eyes. Tobio feels fear resonating from the memory, but he doesn’t know why… 

From behind the haze of the memory, Tobio sees Oikawa raise a hand. He flinches, thinking the hand would come to strike him, or something similarly rash. He’s equally as shocked when the hand comes to rest gently on the top of his head, ruffling his hair lazily.

The memory fades just as quickly as the breath leaves Tobio’s lungs.

“I didn’t know,” Oikawa said simply; quietly into the night sky. He said it mostly to himself, under his breath, but the words were telling enough that Tobio knew immediately what he was talking about.

“But you do now?”

“Two weeks in a coma. One bedridden because of an infection. A month and a half of physical therapy. Two weeks of frequent checkups, and still counting,” Oikawa lists off.

The hand on his head stops and ghosts downwards to Tobio’s cheek and jaw. Oikawa had large hands and Tobio had a small face, so the palm of his hand ended up covering a lot. His palm is warm, and a welcome comfort from the cold air. With his hand, Oikawa lifts Tobio’s chin up, forcing them to make eye contact once more.

With his free hand, he reaches up and brushes away a section of hair, revealing the scar Tobio received the day of his injury. The only visible reminder of what had happened. To Tobio, it was so perplexing that such a small wound could be the reason his entire life was uprooted.

“This might not mean anything to you since you don’t have your memories of me,” Oikawa mumbles, all traces of anger gone from his eyes as his hand came down to cradle Tobio’s face, mirroring the other one, “but I’m so proud of you. So, so proud.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a fighter. And if there’s one thing that wasn’t lost in the accident, it’s that you never like to give up.”

Tobio exhales. Oikawa drops his hands to Tobio’s shoulders and pulls him in for a tight hug, pressing his fingertips into Tobio’s jacket, hoping he could convey his apologies and grief with the touch of his hands.

But most of all, he was desperate. Hoping that maybe the warmth of his body could remind Tobio of the kiss they shared on Oikawa’s last day of school.

* * *

**Hinata is calling Kageyama**

**Hinata is calling Kageyama**

**(3 missed calls from Hinata)**

Hinata: is evreything alrigt??

Hinata: are u still talkingn w the scarry setter dude from seijoh?

Hinata: yama-kun

Hinata: kageyama

Hinata: r u stil alive??

Hinata: r u okkay?

Hinata: he s not being mnean, right?

Hinata: call me when ur safe at h ome

Hinata: srsly yama, oikawas not being anvasshole, right?

Kageyama: im fine i think

Hinata: he left?!

Kageyama: no he wants to talk

Hinata: and ur going to agree??

Kageyama: yea?

Hinata: ...r u on something??

Kageyama: …im standing on concrete?

Hinata: -_-

Hinata: im here if u need me

Hinata: like,,,

Hinata: to talk

Hinata: or to call the cops for you

Hinata: whatevs u kno

Hinata: im here

Kageyama: thanks

Hinata: np

**Kageyama changed Hinata’s name to Jumping Mandarin**

**Jumping Mandarin changed Kageyama’s name to Grumpy Blueberry**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well we already figure out what happened to Tobio in the second chapter of seven. what does that mean? five chapters of pure fluff. (and a little bit of angst... okay a _lot_ of angst, but don't worry about it.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s like an epiphany. A blessing from the angels. God coming down from Heaven to give Tooru a big _wake up_ bitch-slap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i fixed an inconsistency in the previous chapters (thank you jii for the note :) )... amemaru has blue uniforms, not yellow like i had written in chapter one. other than that, everything should be all formatted correctly :)

Tobio stares down at his sneakers and clenched fists. He refuses to lift his head in case Oikawa’s molten brown eyes are looking at him once again with the same fiery determination as earlier. 

“You asked to talk,” Tobio finally breaks the silence of the night, highlighted by the wind rustling the trees and the cicadas screeching. “What did you want to talk about?”

“You confessed to me three years ago.”

Tobio flinches and curls further into himself, wincing at the stupidity his former self must’ve had to get him into this situation. _I confessed to this asshole?_

“Is that so?”

“Tobio, look at me.”

Tobio shudders in a breath, shaking his head. He flinches when Oikawa’s hand comes under his chin and tilts his head up. Reluctantly meeting Oikawa’s eyes, Tobio clenches his fists into his track pants and hopes this won’t go on too long.

“You also kissed me. You don’t remember that, huh?”

 _What?_ He almost voices it out loud. That would be embarrassing.

“N-no. I’m sorry, Oikawa-san.”

“Don’t apologize.”

Tobio lets out a tiny huff, pushing Oikawa’s hand away and straightening his spine. “Does it matter? You obviously didn’t accept it. I don’t know why you’re making a big deal about something I don’t remember.”

“Because _I_ remember it, Tobio-chan. And how do you know I didn’t accept?”

His eyebrows furrow. “So you accepted?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Tobio wants to rip his hair out. Or Oikawa’s hair. Or both. His mind had already been sent reeling when he learned about the confession, but Oikawa _had_ to go and make it ten times more confusing.

“You’re being confusing right now. Are you going to tell me or not?”

“I guess you’ll have to stick around to find out what I said…” His voice lilted as he spoke, light and airy and sounding like a song. Tobio didn’t understand what he seemed so amused about.

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t have practices on Tuesdays because the girl’s team uses your gym. I’m going to be outside the gates of your school when you leave tomorrow. Right here. I’m asking you to go out with me, Tobio-chan.”

Oikawa’s eyes are warm and look nothing like the deadly soul they must contain. Tobio reminds himself to be careful around people like Oikawa, who seem so comfortable playing the nice guy when their eyes can sentence death on lesser men.

“Are you confessing to me, Oikawa-san?”

Oikawa shrugs, turning on his heel and walking out the Karasuno High School gates. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Tobio-chan!”

Tobio somehow has Oikawa-san’s number on his phone. When he gets home, a text is waiting for him already.

* * *

Oikawa-san: Mika’s Café on Swan Parkway, tomorrow at 4:00.

Oikawa-san: Don’t be late, Tobio-chan.

* * *

> **Memories of Kageyama Tobio. Three weeks after his last junior high spring volleyball tournament.**
> 
> “Mama?” Tobio rasped, opening his eyes and feeling the uncomfortable presence of sweat painting his back and brow. The dark hospital room ceiling was the same one he had seen the past week, but this time, the silhouette of looming figures ready to pounce on him decorated the strange shadows cast on the walls. They smiled their sinister smiles, claws sharpened by the intermittent headlights that flickered on the walls through the blinds.
> 
> “Hush, Tobio,” his mother soothed, taking a damp towel and wiping away the sweat on his forehead. She laid a kiss to his temple, voice just loud enough to be heard in the silent room. “Just a bad dream. Go to sleep, Tobi-chan. You need sleep to get stronger again.”
> 
> The dark, looming shadows began to close in. Tobio couldn’t breathe; the suffocating shadows crept towards Tobio’s hospital bed. He didn’t even know why they seemed so scary to him—they were just tall shadows.
> 
> He often woke up like this; gasping and choking on his own breath, swiping at apparitions that never seemed to be tangible, begging then to not come closer with tears in his eyes. He would flick off his blankets even as he shivered, feeling smothered by the weight of his own chest and the sweat on his brow. Every time his bandages were changed, whether he was asleep or not, Tobio would always flinch.
> 
> “No,” he sobbed, attempting to push away her soothing hands, but to no avail—he was still much too weak to do much other than swat at her. “Don’ wanna sleep, I—”
> 
> Ever since he woke up a week ago, his conscious mind was plagued by nightmares of his injury. A fever brought on by a mild infection of the stitches just above his right eyebrow kept the doctors, nurses, and especially his mother close by his side. The nightmares only seemed to be made worse by the fever—Tobio couldn’t even discern fact from hallucination anymore.
> 
> “You just need to close your eyes, Tobi-chan. Sleep will come to you soon. It’s okay, Mama’s here.”
> 
> “I don’— n-nightmares, they— they…” Tobio was just mumbling, choking out whatever words came to his mind at the moment. His voice broke at some point, probably a combination of dryness, emotions, and the fever. His mother ran the damp cloth over his forehead again, carefully avoiding the bandages over his eyebrow.
> 
> The shadows began to fade away. 
> 
> _They’re not real,_ a calm voice soothed from somewhere distant. _They’re disappearing. Real things don’t disappear. Sleep._
> 
> “Shhh, Tobio. Sleep.”
> 
> Tobio obeyed.

* * *

“What is this?”

“It’s called a parfait.”

“Is it foreign?”

“Well, _‘parfait’_ doesn’t sound like a Japanese word, does it?”

Tobio tears his eyes off the treat in front of his eyes and scowls across the table at Oikawa, who is already digging into his plate of milk bread. It’s hard to see Oikawa’s face over the towering glass of whipped cream, granola, and fresh fruit, but Tobio makes it work.

“Don’t make fun of me!”

Oikawa raises his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t making fun of you! It’s French. Try it. I got it ‘cause I thought you’d like it.”

Tobio picks up the spoon next to the glass and takes a spoonful of cream and chopped strawberries, stained a brilliant red. He holds it up to his face, inspecting the dessert. His gaze snaps up and he locks eyes with Oikawa, “You didn’t poison this, did you?”

“W-what?!” Oikawa sputters. “How would I do that? You literally saw the waitress serve it to you.”

“You probably have your ways,” Tobio hisses but—rather paradoxically—eats the spoonful.

It’s fresh and tart and light on his tongue. Tobio wasn’t one to indulge in fresh fruit all too often, but the strawberries tasted delightfully sweet and he didn’t feel any qualms about taking another spoonful, even with Oikawa turning a satisfied smile on him. 

“Like it?”

“The whipped cream is the store bought kind,” Tobio mumbles, licking his lips. He scoops up the whipped cream alone and tastes it; it’s not _bad_ per se but it’s got a weird taste that can only come from being stored under high pressure in aluminium cans.

“Is that all you have to say?” Oikawa deadpans.

“I’m sorry. My mom makes homemade whipped cream and it’s ten times better than this.”

“Not making me feel any better, Tobio-chan.”

“It’s good... I don’t eat strawberries a lot.”

“That’s good.”

Tobio narrows his eyes and takes another spoonful, this time with granola and some sort of tropical fruit that Tobio doesn’t recognize the taste of. “One of my friends eats fruit every morning. He’s brought me fresh fruit before, but never strawberries. His family grows them fresh in their garden.”

“There’s space for gardens near Karasuno?”

“No. He lives by Yukigaoka mountain. Hinata? The red-headed middle blocker.”

Oikawa tilts his head. Tobio wonders why he’s asking so many questions. “The short one? He lives so far from Karasuno, though.”

“Well, yeah,” Tobio shrugs. “He bikes over the mountain and through the valley every day. Says it helps him with endurance. We also race each other to the gym from the school gates every morning.”

A few hazy memories pop up in the back of Tobio’s mind; running with Kazuyo and Miwa. Running with just Kazuyo. Running with senpais. Running with classmates. Running with…? No one? Why did the last picture feel so painful?

“Seems excessive,” Tooru comments, snorting. He doesn’t seem to realize that he’s pulled Tobio out of a daze.

“Hinata is the embodiment of excessive.”

Oikawa doesn’t respond. Tobio shovels another spoonful into his mouth. Even after Tobio is finished chewing and swallowing, Oikawa doesn’t speak. Tobio licks his top lip and decides to take charge. 

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why’d you take me here,” he asks, gesturing to the café. “There’s more to this than you wanting to watch me eat a parfait—”

“I dunno, it’s pretty satisfying watching you eat—”

“Shut up,” Tobio growls before the heat can rise to his cheeks. “You don’t want to talk because we could’ve done that last night. So why did you ask me to meet you?”

Oikawa shrugs, finishing off his milk bread and shifting so he sits against the back of the booth. He brings his teacup up to his lips, taking a small sip. “Can’t I spend time with my precious kohai?”

 _Bullshit_ . They’re at a café at the town center near Shiratorizawa General Hospital. It’s easily a ten-minute bus ride from Aoba Johsai’s campus, not to mention the walk from the bus stop. Oikawa _has_ to have some ulterior motive.

“Oikawa-san, I may not remember you but I can tell you’re not usually a very polite person.”

“Hey!”

Tobio snorts at the reaction, trying some of the bright green kiwi underneath the first layer of cream and yogurt. He distantly recalls Oikawa’s eyes from the night before; cold, piercing, and fiery all at once. As self-contradictory as that may sound. Whatever. It makes sense to Tobio, and that’s all that matters.

He shivers. _Definitely not a nice person_.

“Are you cold?”

“Hm?” Tobio looks up from his dessert and into Oikawa’s eyes. “Pardon, Oikawa-san?”

Oikawa doesn’t respond. He doesn’t move, either. He gives Tobio a long, contemplative look. Then, he sighs and reaches over to the space in the booth next to him and picks up his Aoba Johsai volleyball jacket. Tobio doesn’t know why he has it, because he’s wearing his Aoba Johsai uniform—the actual, school-wide uniform, and not his practice clothes or track pants. He reaches across the table and drapes it over Tobio’s shoulders.

It’s much too big for Tobio—although they’re almost the same height, Oikawa still has more width in the shoulders and more muscle on his bones than Tobio—but the sudden wave of oranges and something fresh (like mint or clean linen) that washes over Tobio makes him keep his mouth shut.

“You’re much too high-maintenance,” he complains, despite the small, satisfied smile on his face. “If I’m going to be giving you my jacket to borrow, you _have_ to call me Tooru-san.”

Tobio hides his blush by dropping his chin to his chest. He doesn’t think Oikawa-san— _Tooru-san_ —is fooled, but that’s beside the point. Thankfully, the café doesn’t seem to be busy and there aren’t many witnesses to Tobio’s plight

“Yes, Tooru-san,” he obediently parrots back.

A satisfied huff leaves Tooru’s nose. “You look good in Aoba Johsai blue.”

There’s something in his voice that Tobio can’t decipher. But he ignores it and goes back to eating his tropical parfait. Tooru is already finished with his milk bread and tea, but he seems satisfied with sitting and watching Tobio eat.

Tobio feels warm despite the coldness of the parfait on his tongue.

* * *

**Tobio-chan changed Oikawa-san’s name to Tooru-san**

* * *

> **Memories of Oikawa Tooru. At the end of his second year of high school.**
> 
> “Congrats on being chosen to be Captain next year,” Makki told him one night after practice in early spring. “All the second years knew you deserved it.”
> 
> “Thank you!” Tooru said, his smile bringing his eyes into squints. “I hope next year the team can win the prefectural finals under my lead.”
> 
> “Just the prefecture?” Mattsun scoffed, hooking an arm around Tooru’s neck and rubbing a knuckle into the top of his head even as Tooru squirmed and laughed. “Think bigger! We’re going to win nationals!”
> 
> “Yeah!” Tooru cheered, finally managing to get Mattsun’s sweaty arm off him. “And with the incoming team, we’ll have a great chance! A lot of my kouhais from Kitaichi are really strong. They had their tournament a few weeks ago but I heard they lost against Shiratorizawa Junior High as well. The ones that I heard were planning on coming here are a middle blocker, wing spiker, and setter.”
> 
> “So they’re the perfect group to replace the third years!” Makki exclaimed.
> 
> “Yep!”
> 
> “They’re all your kouhais?”
> 
> Tooru nodded, ruffling through his gym bag for a clean change of clothes. “The setter was almost good enough to replace me in his first year. The middle blocker was the tallest on the team when I left. And the wing spiker is a great strategist. He can be a little lazy but he’s just conserving energy. They’re all great.”
> 
> Mattsun dropped his gym bag on the floor and sat next to Makki on the floor with their things. “Do you have the roster of incoming first years?”
> 
> Tooru turned to his open locker, ruffling his brows as he searched through his bag. “Yeah, coach handed them to me today, just gimme a— here it is!”
> 
> He pulled out a folder that the coach had given to him at the end of practice. “These are all the ones that played on teams in junior high. But we might get more people signing up at next year’s club fair. We _are_ a powerhouse volleyball team, after all.”
> 
> Tooru handed the folder to Makki, who pulled out the papers and scanned through each profile. He turned away to finish changing out of his practice clothes. “There are only two Kitaichi people here… I don’t see the setter you were talking about.”
> 
> Tooru paused in the middle of pulling his new shirt on. He tugged it down the rest of the way before turning back to the profiles, which Makki and Mattsun had laid out neatly on the floor. 
> 
> Two were separated from the rest: the Kitagawa Daiichi graduates. True to Makki’s word, only two were there—Kindaichi and Kunimi—and the third profile was nowhere to be found.
> 
> “Tobio-chan isn’t here…” he mumbled, sifting through the remaining pages. There were a few from other powerhouse schools: a libero from Chidoriyama, a wing spiker from Amemaru, and a middle blocker from Seikoudai. But no Tobio-chan. “Even if the others weren’t going to come, I thought for _sure_ he would be the only one to come to Seijoh.”
> 
> “Is he a really good player?” Mattsun asked, collecting the profiles up and setting them neatly back in the folder.
> 
> “He’s a genius,” Tooru responded, absentmindedly putting the folder back in his locker as he processes the new information. “Like—with a lot of practice and work—he could be five—no, wait, that's too much—three times better than me.”
> 
> Tooru finishes changing out of his practice clothes and slams his locker shut. “I know the coach even sent him an invitation! This is bullshit.”
> 
> Makki and Mattsun share a look that goes unseen by Tooru. 
> 
> “Did he go to Shiratorizawa?”
> 
> “I fucking hope not.”

* * *

The next time Tobio is free after school, Oikawa— _Tooru_ , pardon—is not. He has a practice match on Thursday with a college team, and isn’t able to take Tobio anywhere. Instead, he invites Tobio to watch the practice match.

And, of course, Tobio isn’t going to say no because, while he may still be kind of wary around Tooru, he’s not going to pass up the opportunity to watch a powerhouse school play and formulate some strategies to counterattack.

He doesn’t tell Tooru this, but the older setter probably suspects it anyway.

_Tooru-san: Find Building B, Gym 2. It’s the smaller gym where the volleyball team practices. If you can’t find it, ask one of the students or faculty on campus. I’ll be waiting for you._

The text comes the minute Tobio’s final class ends for the day. Belatedly, he wonders when he gave Tooru his school and practice schedule, but he figures Tooru would’ve figured it out somehow with or without Tobio’s help. 

_I’m taking the bus there_ , Tobio sends back as soon as he sits down. It’s only a fifteen minute bus-ride to Aoba Johsai Mountain, and then a five minute walk from the bus stop to the campus entrance. Then the walk to the gym, but Tobio didn’t know how far that was from the front gates.

Finding the gym isn’t too much of a hassle. The buildings are labelled A through H, with A being the closest to the front gate and H being the farthest. Building B, Gym 2 is a gym quite similar to Karasuno’s, but just a bit taller and wider.

(Tobio is kind of put-off by the fact that Seijoh’s “smaller gym” is bigger than Karasuno’s “big gym”; aside from the large, carpeted multipurpose space that the theatre and music department claimed as their own. The co-ed judo team didn’t even practice on-campus. They walked down the street twice a week to use the community center’s courts. The basketball team used Karasuno’s “smaller gym” because they had the hoops.)

By the time he steps into the gym, the college team that Seijoh’s meant to play has just arrived as well. He stays quiet through the introductions and greetings, taking careful note of the players on both sides.

Aoba Johsai’s players are shorter—which is expected, they’re only high schoolers—but Tobio gets the feeling that the two sides are more evenly matched than meets the eye. The college’s students are all plain. None too muscular, none too tall, and none with the spark that Tobio can recognize in a passionate player’s eyes.

“Tobio-chan! You’re here.”

Tobio turns from the college team to Tooru, who is walking towards him with wide arms and an even wider smile on his face. Behind him, the entire Aoba Johsai team is eyeing him even as they try to look discreet behind their bangs and water bottles. 

“You asked me to come. It would be rude to deny,” Tobio says, because it’s not _incorrect_ , although it’s not the whole truth.

“Is that the only reason?”

“Yes?”

Tooru’s smile immediately tilts downwards into a pout and Tobio is left to deal with the whiplash. 

“You didn’t want to see your precious senpai kick some ass today? I’m hurt, Tobio-chan!”

“I don’t need to come to your school to watch you beat people at volleyball, Tooru-san. There are videos on YouTube for that,” Tobio replies evenly.

“You’re no fun!”

“My, my, what’s going on here?” One of Tooru’s teammates walks up, slinging an arm around Tooru’s shoulder. He’s a little shorter than Tooru, so the extra weight makes the setter duck down and almost lose balance. “Are you being a little bitch today, Oikawa?”

“He always acts like a little bitch!” Iwaizumi calls from the bench, passing out practice jerseys to his team. The job that Tooru, as the team captain, is probably supposed to be doing. “Nothing new, Makki!”

Tobio resists the urge to snort.

Tooru scowls and turns his scowl on his teammate—Makki—as he crosses his arms. “Am I not allowed to have an off-day?”

“You’re always having an ‘off-day’,” Makki retorts.

“No I’m not!”

“Well, you are when I see you.”

“Oh look, a pattern,” Tooru begins, dryly. “I wonder why.”

This time, Tobio does laugh, although he immediately goes to smother it with a palm. It’s too late, though, as Tooru has turned his attention to Tobio and shrugs off Makki’s arm in favor of stalking towards Tobio—

“Oikawa! Get your ass over here so we can start the game!”

“Coming!” He calls over his shoulder. He turns back to Tobio, pointing to a staircase that leads to the second floor. “If you head up there, you’ll get a good view of the court. I’ll come get you after the match.”

Tobio nods and hikes his bag higher up on his shoulder. He begins to turn away when a heavy and hot weight on his shoulders makes his stop. Tooru is suddenly in his space, looming much higher over Tobio than what should be possible, given their height difference.

“Watch me closely, Tobio-chan,” Tooru says to him, his eyes bright. Then, he leans in and presses a lingering kiss to the space between Tobio’s eyebrows. He’s gone before Tobio can react, already making his way back to his team and offering words of encouragement as they begin the match.

It takes Tobio a good few seconds to reboot his brain. His blush catches up with his thoughts and he turns as soon as he sees Iwaizumi’s curious eyes on him, ducking into the stairwell and hoping that Tooru’s fangirls weren’t paying too close attention.

He ignores the way his heart skips—and continues to skip—a beat every time he thinks of the soft touch of Tooru’s lips to his forehead.

* * *

Grumpy Blueberry: i think i have a crush.

Jumping Mandarin: on volleyball?

Jumping Mandarin: weve already had thsi discussion, yama-kun!! iits not possible!!

Grumpy Blueberry: no, on like an actual person

Grumpy Blueberry: a living, breathing person

Jumping Mandarin: oh

Jumping Mandarin: OH!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jumping Mandarin: OHG MYU GEODAJSHDGF

Grumpy Blueberry: calm down pls

Jumping Mandarin: NO!!!! CALM DOWN???!!?!!

Jumping Mandarin: HOW CNA I CALJM DOWN 

Jumping Mandarin: KAGEYAMA TOBIO HAS! A! CRUSH!!!!!!!!!!

Grumpy Blueberry: ahhhhhh

Grumpy Blueberry: im already freaking out hinata i dont need u to do it for me

Jumping Mandarin: ah sorry

Jumping Mandarin: who is it?

Grumpy Blueberry: ...

Grumpy Blueberry: oikawa tooru

Jumping Mandarin: AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Grumpy Blueberry: oh dear lord

**Jumping Mandarin is calling Grumpy Blueberry**

* * *

“What do you mean you can’t come to the café today? I know you don’t have practice,” Tooru says into the phone. He knows he shouldn’t be so territorial—Tobio and him aren’t really _a thing_ yet, even though both their teams might think so—but he can’t help but want to spend every free hour with the younger setter.

“I know,” Tobio responds, his voice obviously guilty even through the phone speakers. Tobio made sure to call as soon as class was over. Somehow, he knew the Aoba Johsai class schedule (Tooru wasn’t complaining). “But my homework grades in English haven’t been so great the past few days so my Mama wants me to spend a little more time studying.”

Tooru frowns. “Why didn’t you tell me you were struggling in class?”

“...you didn’t ask? And it’s not that important.”

“Well, you can’t spend time with me today because of it, so I’d say it’s important,” Tooru says, quite petulantly. (And, frankly, childishly.) He slings his backpack over his shoulder and makes his way to the lockers to change his school shoes to his outdoor ones. “And I could help you, you know?”

“I couldn’t ask that of you, Tooru-san, I—”

“You aren’t asking,” Tooru cuts in, “I’m offering. It’s really no trouble. My English is nearly fluent.”

“...that would be great,” Tobio acquiesces after a moment of careful consideration. “Thank you, Tooru-san.”

Tooru hums and bends down to slip his outdoor shoes on. He shifts his phone to fit between his cheek and his shoulder as he tightens the laces. “Are you at school?”

“I’m already at home. Your school gets out much later than mine.”

Tooru already knew that, but he wasn’t going to say anything about it.

A few underclassmen giggle and stare as Tooru walks past. Normally he would send a smile their way, or even stop to talk, but Tooru was on a mission. He returns the phone to his hand and walks towards Aoba Johsai’s front gate.

“Send me your address?”

“I’ll text it.”

Tobio hangs up.

The text comes not a minute later. Tobio opens up the GPS app on his phone and takes the bus route closest to Shiratorizawa General Hospital. Tobio’s house is a mere eleven-minute walk from the bus stop, all downhill.

 _More like down-mountain, really_ , Tooru thinks, peering over the guardrails of a cliff called “Heartbreak Hill”. The sidewalks are kept pristine, most likely for the benefit of the students who use them to walk to school every day.

Tooru passes Karasuno High school shortly, the modest public school already mostly empty, with only a few after-school clubs still on-campus. He continues down the hill and wonders how the hell Tobio makes it up the mountain every morning before school.

Moreover, he wonders how the hell the little Chibi can climb a mountain on the way to school, and then do it again on the way back home. Yukigaoka Mountain—where the Chibi apparently lives—and Shiratorizawa Mountain—the mountain Shiratorizawa High and Karasuno High are on—are part of the same range, but are separated by a valley that is used mostly for farming. It probably would’ve been easier for the Chibi to go to the closest public school to him, Kakugawa. 

But it seems Karasuno kids don’t know how to take it easy. Tooru snorts. Then, he looks around to make sure no one witnessed him make such a disgusting noise. It’s getting dark out and the sun is just above the horizon, so thankfully there’s really no one in the area. His phone says he’s two minutes away from the Kageyama residence.

 _I’m in your neighborhood,_ Tooru texts, keeping his phone held in his hand rather than slipping it back into his pocket.

 _I’ll wait for you by the gate_ , Tobio texts back almost immediately.

 _Who does that?_ Tooru thinks to himself, once again realizing just how enigmatic Tobio is.

“Tooru-san!” He hears, before he even finishes reading Tobio’s text. He’s already changed out of his uniform, wearing loose flannel pyjama bottoms and a shirt that looks like it’s probably his dad’s. It’s nowhere near the nicest thing Tooru’s seen him in. But for some reason, the outfit, paired with the big smile Tobio’s wearing, makes something flutter in the center of Tooru’s chest.

“Tobio-chan,” Tooru greets, returning the smile as best he can, hoping it looks a fraction as bright as Tobio’s does. “Thanks for having me.”

“Thank you for offering to help.”

Tobio leads him through the front gate, closing the wrought-iron bars as Tooru steps inside. Then, Tooru is led into the house itself. It’s a nice but modest westernized home, much like Tooru’s own house. The neighborhood is quaint and safe, but nowhere near the splendor Tooru was expecting when he heard the Kageyamas lived by Shiratorizawa. 

Still, the inside of the house is tastefully decorated and the smell of something delightful cooking wafts in from deeper inside the house. There are pictures hanging all over the walls, as well as magazine and newspaper clippings. Some are random articles that Tooru can’t figure out the purpose of. Some are of Kaori-san and her restaurants. Most are of Tobio and his accomplishments in middle school.

Tooru toes off his shoes and follows Tobio into the house.

“Please pardon the intrusion…”

“Mama? Tooru-san’s here.”

“Ah! Tooru-kun!” Kaori-san lifts her head from the chopping board and sets down her knife. She picks up the towel tucked into her apron and quickly wipes down her hands. She steps around the island and nods her head once in greeting. “Thank you for offering to help! I’m cooking dinner tonight, so you’re welcome to stay. Although I may warn you,” Kaori leans a little closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially with a wicked smirk on her face, “it’s a work-in-progress recipe, so if it tastes bad, it’s Tobio’s father’s fault for inspiring me.”

Tooru chuckles and nods his head. “I’d love to stay, Kaori-san. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem. Why don’t you boys head up and work until dinner’s done. Tobio, could you knock on your Papa’s office door and ask him to come down and help me finish up here?”

“Alright, Mama,” Tobio replies, tugging on the sleeve of Tooru’s uniform blazer to take him down a hallway and up the stairs. Tobio knocks on the first door at the top of the staircase, relaying the information to his father through the door. Then, Tobio leads Tooru to the next door, which is wide open. Tobio makes a beeline for his desk, curling up in the chair sitting by it.

Tobio’s room is psychotically organized; there isn’t a single spec of dust or thing out of place, other than the mess of papers and pens scattered across his desk. His books are stacked at the foot of his bed, his bed is perfectly made, both his volleyball uniform and his school uniform are hanging on hooks on the wall, and even his backpack is sitting perfectly centered under the window.

Not wanting to disrupt the perfect organization, Tooru sets his backpack right next to Tobio’s under the window. “What do your parents do for work?” He asks, pulling his glasses case out of his front backpack pocket.

“My Mama’s a chef in Sendai City. She works most nights but she’s been taking a few at-home days to work on recipes in her own kitchen. Papa’s an editor for the Miyagi Newspaper. He used to write the food critic column before he was promoted. That’s how Mama and Papa met.”

 _That explains the random newspaper clippings_ , Tooru thinks, a metaphorical lightbulb going off in his head.

Tobio hums in acknowledgment and peers over Tobio’s shoulder at the worksheets laid out before him. He pushes his glasses a little farther up his nose.

There are three worksheets total. One, a list of English vocabulary words, is already completed (and done pretty perfectly, if Tooru’s quick scan of the page is anything to go by). The second one is half-completed, with a few blank spaces and question marks thrown in randomly through the paper. It’s a grammar worksheet. The last one is a long English paragraph and three questions in japanese below it. The only thing handwritten on the paper is Tobio’s name at the top of the page.

“You did well on the vocabulary,” Tooru points out.

“I have an easier time memorizing things than learning them…” Tobio explains sheepishly. He scratches the back of his neck and peers down at the second worksheet. “I’m bad at comprehension and grammar.”

It makes more sense to Tooru than it should. Tobio’s genius in volleyball comes from his acute sense and sharpened mind, not his ability to understand, like Tooru. It’s only fitting that he learns the same way. Tooru was always much more adept at grammar than memorizing vocabulary words.

Tooru picks up the second worksheet, sitting on the edge of Tobio’s desk and looking over the few questions Tobio already filled in. “You’re getting there… just remember the different conjugations for the verb ‘to have’,” Tooru explains, the English easily flowing off his tongue. “In singular third-person, it’s ‘he has’, and in any other, it’s ‘have’: like ‘I have’, ‘we have’, ‘they have’.”

Tobio groans and drops his face into his hands. “I can’t remember any of this!”

“Hey, you just said you were good at memorization! All you have to do is memorize the rules,” Tooru picks up a pen and writes down a few words in the corner of the paper. “Here are some memory tips I learned over the past few years. You can make a song, use a mnemonic device, use association—”

“I don’t know what half of those things are,” Tobio says helplessly.

Tooru rolls his eyes and hands the sheet back to Tobio, his hands lingering a hair longer than they should. “If Sally owns a volleyball, ‘she has a volleyball’ because Sally isn’t greedy. If you own a volleyball, they own a volleyball, or we own a volleyball, it’s ‘I, they, or we have a volleyball’. Got it?”

“I… I think so?”

“Great. Now try it.”

Tobio takes the pen from Tooru and begins working through the rest of the worksheet, mumbling the memory device under his breath as he went. It was cute to see him nibbling on the end of the pen every time he stopped to think.

“You’re hopeless when it comes to everything outside of volleyball.”

“I know.”

“So just use volleyball to remember everything,” Tooru suggests. “Find a way to apply grammar rules to volleyball. Imagine yourself speaking to an American teammate. Relate things to positions on the court.”

Tobio nodded once, finishing up the worksheet. He scanned over the paper once again, correcting a spelling mistake he found. He doesn’t even need Tooru’s prompting.

“If it’s a single person other than myself, use ‘has’ because it has less letters than ‘have’. In volleyball, more players or myself equals more points,” he said proudly. “A memory device like that?”

Tooru chuckled, quite stunned. “That works. Although I’d have to disagree on one account,” he reached over to bop Tobio on the nose once, watching as the younger setter went cross-eyes drying to follow his finger. “You being on the team doesn’t always mean you’ll get more points. Not when it comes to Aoba Johsai.”

“You can’t know that!” Tobio protested. “We beat you once already.”

“Yeah, at a _practice match_ with our roster being mostly first-years. You’ll see how we really play at Inter-High.”

Tobio frowned. “We didn’t use all our regulars, either. We just got an ace and a libero. And we finally have a coach.”

“Are they new? Are you sure they’ll be up-to-par by the time the tournament comes?”

“They were on the team before, but they took short breaks. There’s a lot of history there that I don’t really know,” Tobio sheepishly explains. He brings his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around them, making himself more comfortable. “They’re both really good, though. Our libero is from Chidoriyama and our ace went to Seikoudai. They’re cool senpais.”

The image of the sunset pouring through Tobio’s window, paired with his loose clothes and open smile makes for a particularly homely picture. Tooru reaches out and tousles Tobio’s hair, just ‘cause he can.

 _It’s so soft_ , he squeals internally, feeling like one of his fangirls. _Is this what girls think when they usually feel guys’ hair?_

“Not as cool of a senpai as I am, right?”

“I don’t even remember you being my senpai!” Tobio protests petulantly.

“None of them come to your house to tutor you, do they?”

Tobio opens his mouth to respond, but pauses before a sound can escape. Slowly, his face morphs into a lazy smile as he looks up at Tooru.

“No, they don’t,” he confirms, looking truly happy as he does so. “Thank you, Tooru-san.”

The breath leaves Tooru’s lungs before he knows why. His hand drops down and out of Tobio’s hair to rest on his shoulder. He stares at the young teen in front of him, wondering why his heart decided to skip a beat and drop to his stomach.

Tobio turns his sparkling eyes away from Tooru and back to his work, and the heavy feeling on Tooru’s chest leaves so quickly that he feels himself getting whiplash. It’s only after he notices the way Tobio’s eyelashes are much longer than normal peoples’ are that he realizes—

 _Holy fuck_.

It’s like an epiphany. A blessing from the angels. God coming down from Heaven to give Tooru a big _wake up_ bitch-slap.

 _I’m in love with Tobio_.

He processes these words for a few seconds more before it sinks in.

 _I’m in love with Kageyama Tobio_.

There’s a furious thunderstorm brewing in his mind. He can’t think through all the noise and Tobio’s lips are looking _awfully distracting_ —

“Boys!” The voice comes from the bottom of the stairs, startling Tooru out of his thoughts. “Dinner’s ready!”

“We’re coming!” Tobio replies, pushing his chair away from his desk. He pulls all three worksheets into a pile and organizes his desk quickly. 

Tooru follows him out of the room and down the stairs, quietly brewing in his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check out my other works? ;)


	4. Chapter 4

Tooru-san: how did u do on ur english assignment?

Tobio-chan: 93% !!

Tobio-chan: my highest score in english so far

Tooru-san: greattt!!!! ☆:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:☆

Tobio-chan: are you free tmr?

Tooru-san: yh i don’t have practice 

Tooru-san: y?

Tobio-chan: café?

Tooru-san: sounds gr8 (つ✧ω✧)つ

Tooru-san: see you after school then? 

Tobio-chan: ok!! ^-^

* * *

Tobio is already sitting in a booth when Tooru gets to the café. A plate of milk bread and Tooru’s favorite tea are already sitting across the table from where Tobio’s own food sits.

“What’d you get this time?” Tooru asks, swinging his backpack off his shoulder and slipping into the booth. Tobio is in his Karasuno school uniform; something Tooru has never really seen him in before. Tobio’s always been in his volleyball practice clothes or his volleyball jacket. 

But the change in outfit is quite refreshing; Karasuno’s uniform is a more traditional gakuran, compared to Aoba Johsai’s more “Catholic” style. The black jacket pairs well with Tobio’s black hair and complexion. The clean cut makes him look less beanpole-like and more… balanced. Tall and dangerous. Young but sure of himself.

“A blueberry pastry,” Tobio answers, holding up the fresh pastry. The dark blue jam nearly matches his eyes. But Tooru doesn’t say that out loud. “It looks like something my grandpa used to make, so I got it.”

" _Used_ to?”

Tobio nods, solemn. There is a careful lack of emotion on his face; it is unnatural and unmoving, like a mask that Tobio equipped. “He apparently died right before my third year… I only ever remember him being alive, though.”

“Oh.”

Tooru is once more reminded of his amnesia and wonders just how much of his new life Tobio had to learn to adapt to. It overwhelms his thoughts and he doesn’t realize that he’s kept quiet for much too long until Tobio breaks the silence.

“I got you the same thing as last time… I hope that’s okay.”

Tooru laughs, delighted that Tobio remembered. “It’s perfectly fine! Milk bread is my favorite snack.”

Tobio makes a noise of acknowledgement, biting into his pastry and feeling the tart jam explode across his taste buds. His face lights up with joy at the sweetness.

“When’s your next free day from practice?”

“Not for a while,” Tobio replies as soon as he’s done chewing. “We asked the basketball team if we could use the gym more often because of Inter-High coming up. And on Tuesday next week, I’m working with Hinata on an english project. Then, we’re going to practice at the park near my house.”

“You don’t have time for me anymore!” Tooru whines, throwing himself dramatically against the back of the booth.

“We’ve only started hanging out a week ago, Tooru-san,” Tobio deadpans, fixing Tooru with an unimpressed gaze. “I’m free next Friday after practice. You can come over, if you want. I know it might be a little late if it’s after practice, so we have a guest room that you can sleep in.”

“Already inviting me over, Tobio-chan? How scandalous!”

“My Mama knows who you are. Your Ka-san knows who I am. You’ve been to my house _three times_ already—”

“Let me have some fun, will you?”

Tobio rolls his eyes and takes another bite of his pastry. “I have practice Saturday afternoon, though, so you can’t stay long. We can go to the park and practice a bit?”

“Sounds great.”

Tobio nods his head in agreement, sneaking in another bite. This time, a bit of blueberry jam gets smudged over the top of his lip. He doesn’t seem to notice, and begins picking at the puff pastry.

_He looks so goddamn cute._

“Tobio,” Tooru begins, “you’ve got a little something on your…” he trails off.

“Huh?”

Instead of finishing his sentence, Tooru reaches across the table and uses his thumb to wipe off the jam, bringing it back to his own lips. It’s a cliché-as-hell move, but it seems to work on Tobio, who has gone so red it looks like he’s about to burst.

“T-Tooru-san!” Tobio exclaims.

“Yes?” Tooru knows he looks way too smug for the situation. “You were saying something, Tobio-chan?”

“N-nevermind.”

* * *

Turnip-kun: hey, kageyama.

King: hello? who is this?

Turnip-kun: ah

Turnip-kun: i guess you must’ve gotten a new phone after the accident if you don’t have my number saved anymore

King: no i have your number saved but its under a weird name

Turnip-kun: what is it?

King: its under turnip-kun

Turnip-kun: it’s an inside joke

Turnip-kun: my hair is spiked up like a turnip, apparently

King: oh ok

Turnip-kun: my name’s kindaichi yuutaro

**King changed Turnip-kun’s name to Kindaichi**

Kindaichi: yeah

**Kindaichi changed King’s name to Kageyama-kun**

Kindaichi: i was your classmate and teammate at kitaichi

Kageyama-kun: are you in the same year as me?

Kindaichi: yes

Kindaichi: i’m at aoba johsai right now

Kageyama-kun: oh

Kindaichi: i played against you at the practice match a week and a half ago

Kindaichi: i was the tall middle blocker with black hair

Kindaichi: i don’t remember what number practice jersey i had on but

Kageyama-kun: i remember you

Kindaichi: oh okay

Kageyama-kun: were we friends in junior high?

Kindaichi: we were really close in the beginning

Kindaichi: but in the middle of our second year we started to drift apart

Kageyama-kun: oh

Kindaichi: yeah

Kindaichi: my best friend, kunimi was a part of our group

Kindaichi: we were like the three musketeers

Kageyama-kun: why did i drift apart?

Kindaichi: huh?

Kageyama-kun: you’re still friends with kunumi because you called him your best friend

Kindaichi: ah yeah

Kageyama-kun: is he at seijoh with you?

Kindaichi: yeah he also played at the practice match

Kageyama-kun: oh okay

Kindaichi: he was the wing spiker with the combed-down brown hair

Kageyama-kun: i see

Kindaichi: and i don’t really know why you drifted apart

Kageyama-kun: you said it was the middle of second year?

Kindaichi: yeah

Kageyama-kun: it might’ve been because my grandfather died

Kindaichi: uh

Kindaichi: what

Kageyama-kun: my grandfather died in the fall of my second year

Kageyama-kun: i dont remember the funeral and stuff but thats what i was told

Kindaichi: oh

Kageyama-kun: it mightve been because of that

Kageyama-kun: my parents worked in tokyo so he was mostly my guardian

Kageyama-kun: then he got sick

Kindaichi: i’m sorry

Kageyama-kun: its not ur fault dude

Kindaichi: i know

Kindaichi: but kunimi and i started abandoning you after your attitude changed

Kindaichi: we should’ve realized something else was going on

Kageyama-kun: its not your fault

Kindaichi: i guess

Kindaichi: i was just being a stupid middle-schooler

Kageyama-kun: yeah

Kindaichi: ok

Kageyama-kun: hmm

Kindaichi: so

Kindaichi: i’ve still got homework so i’m gonna go

Kageyama-kun: yeah ofc

Kindaichi: i’ll talk to you sometime soon

Kageyama-kun: just text me whenever

Kindaichi: yeah

Kageyama-kun: yeah

Kindaichi: :)

* * *

When Tooru gets to Tobio’s house after practice the next week, he fits in like a member of the family. Kaori-san is making dinner in the kitchen when Tooru passes—unusual for a Friday night, since the restaurants in Sendai City are usually busy—but he bows her way, offers a prompt greeting, and tears up the stairs towards Tobio’s room.

Tobio sits at his desk, his tablet in his hand and his homework nowhere to be seen in his impeccably organized room. It kind of infuriates Tooru how neat everything is; his own room isn’t filthy by any standard, but there are a few nonsense things lying about. Some random socks or a hoodie he’s too lazy to hang back up. His bed is never made in the morning. Little things like that.

“No homework this time?” Tooru asks, throwing his backpack next to Tobio’s and sitting in the extra desk chair that Tobio had pulled from his father’s office once their after-practice hangouts became a regular thing.

Tobio shakes his head. He’s changed out of his practice clothes into something more comfortable—this time a loose sweater and sweatpants. He overflows with fabric and he even has _motherfucking sweater paws._ Tooru’s never felt so much affection for a sweater as he does in that very moment. “We had a practice match today so I just did my homework before warming up. Tsukishima-kun and my senpais helped me.”

Tooru vehemently ignores the pang of jealousy that runs down his spine. He plucks his glasses off his own nose and sets them on Tobio, effectively claiming his property.

_Tutoring Tobio is_ my _job._

Not to mention, Tobio looks absolutely adorable in his loose clothes and Tooru’s glasses.

“What’re you watching, then?”

“Today’s practice match against Nekoma.”

“A Tokyo school?”

“Yes. They’re usually in the top eight in Tokyo, but they haven’t been to nationals in a while. We have an old rivalry with them.”

“Ah,” Tooru eloquently says and scoots his chair closer so he can see the screen. After a moment of deliberation, he dares to hook his chin over Tobio’s shoulder. The younger setter bristles at first, but settles into the warmth, leaning back into Tooru. Tooru snakes an arm around Tobio’s waist to hold the two in place. “Who’s their ace?”

“Not sure,” Tobio mumbles, but points to Nekoma’s Number Five, tilting the screen so they both can watch. “He’s their setter, though. He’s the brain of Nekoma.”

“All setters are the brain of their team.”

“No, but this is— different, he—” Tobio stutters over his words, unable to properly express his point.

On-screen, the setter jumps for a toss and immediately dumps it right over Hinata’s head, catching Karasuno off-guard.

“Oh. I see what you mean.”

The next rally continues and one of Nekoma’s spikers tips the ball over Karasuno’s blockers and the baldie—Tanaka, if Tooru remembers correctly—receives it badly. It goes straight up and back down to the libero.

Then, on-screen Tobio calls for the last touch and Tooru feels a wave of confusion go through him. He had never, in his life, seen Tobio spike during an actual game.

The spike ends up being a perfect line shot and Tooru can hear the Karasuno team screeching in disbelief through the tablet’s speakers. He chuckles and inches closer to watch the next rally begin.

“Since when did you spike?”

“Since forever. I wasn’t always a starting setter, you know.”

Tobio’s finally rotated to the serving position and Tooru watches intently as he throws the ball up, swoops down and forward in preparation for the jump, and spikes. The serve is jaw-droppingly intense. Almost like a spike. Tobio’s arm gets high enough above the net that he doesn’t have to worry about arcing the ball up and over the net, it just comes down in a perfect diagonal.

Unfortunately, that particular strike was a hair out of bounds. That doesn’t seem to phase Tobio, though, and the game continues.

“Ugh,” Tobio grimaces, covering his face. “I was so angry at myself for that one. I thought for sure I could do it.”

“Your serves are very powerful, though,” Tooru placates with a pat to one of Tobio’s shoulders. “Did one of your senpais at Karasuno teach you?”

Tobio shakes his head, rewinding the video a few seconds to rewatch the footage. His eyes are wide. Intent. The video begins playing again, completely silent except for a few calls of “nice serve” in the background.

“None of my senpais have a really strong serve. Except maybe Asahi-san.”

“Oh?” Tooru distantly recalls the name but a face doesn’t come to mind. Maybe Tooru hadn’t met him yet. “How did you learn, then?”

“Can’t you tell?”

“Huh?”

Tobio gives the tablet to Tooru, gesturing to the screen. “Look. Isn’t it obvious?”

Tooru watches the serve once more—much more closely this time—and processes what he sees: the timing, the run-up, the form. Everything that there is to see. Tobio’s arched back. His arm extended high above his head as his palm made contact. His legs as they swing to counter the force of the hit.

And suddenly, everything makes sense.

“That’s my serve,” he breathes. “This is almost _exactly_ my serve.”

“I was certain it was yours after I saw you serve at the practice match.”

It’s quite obvious to see, now that Tooru’s really looking. Every server has their own particular style or habit when they serve. The distance they run up from, how low they swoop to the ground, how much they use their back and legs and shoulders and hips, and how high they reach. And more.

It’s right there, in front of Tooru. Only a few people utilize the full ability of their body while serving. Most seem to use their shoulder and back—like they’re throwing a small ball—and rely on pure muscle strength to add power to the serve. Others let physics do the work.

Tobio’s serve takes his torso down low to the ground. When he jumps, his back arches and coils in preparation for the hit. The power starts at the hips, travels up the side and back, and is released high above the head, using the arm like a whip until all the energy accumulates in the palm. It’s a carbon copy of Tooru’s.

Even players who learn serves from others end up developing their own habits. But Tobio’s is almost an identical copy. Something perfected after hours of watching, taping, and training to make the serve a twin. Even then it was hard.

_But of course a genius like Tobio could pull it off._

And of course he would remember how to do Tooru’s jump serve, even after losing the past three years of his memory. _Of-fucking-course._

“This is the serve I do when I’m most ‘in the zone’,” Tobio rambles, unaware of Tooru’s inner monologue-slash-freakout. “It has the least control but the most power. The other serve I do is less impactful but I can aim much better. I only use this one if I’m sure I can aim it well.”

Tooru reaches over and curls his fingers around Tobio’s bicep, pulling the younger setter so he can press a kiss to his temple.

“W-what was that for?” Tobio asks, scrubbing away at his cheeks to hide the blush that rises on them.

“No reason.”

However, Tooru presses another kiss to the red on the apples of Tobio’s cheeks, carefully avoiding the glasses that still rest on Tobio’s face. He doesn’t feel embarrassed or hesitant; he only feels his pulse pounding away in his chest, and the little huffs Tobio breathes out onto his collarbone.

“Tobio-chan,” he whispers, since he’s so close to Tobio’s ear (which is slowly turning the same color as the rest of his face). He presses a kiss to the tip of his ear, just for the heck of it. “If I kiss you right now, would you kick me out?”

Tobio gapes. “I— would— no… no, I wouldn’t,” he finishes, ever the eloquent speaker.

“Alright,” Tooru whispers, mostly to get his emotions under control. He’s toeing a fine line, being so close to Tobio.

He reaches a hand up and gently prods at Tobio’s chin until his face is turned towards him. He looks nervous—unsure of the situation—so Tooru leans forward and presses a kiss to the bridge of Tobio’s nose. His eyes fall shut and only flutter back open once Tooru has pulled away.

“You _can_ say no. I won’t be offended,” Tooru says, just to be sure.

“No, I… I want to kiss you,” he replies, and the reluctance begins to make way for determination and something marginally akin to desperation. “Tooru-san, _pleas—”_

Tooru presses forward, pulling Tobio towards him in the same instant. His free hand comes to wrap around the small of Tobio’s back to pull their chests closer; closer until Tobio is practically straddling Tooru’s lap.

Tobio’s hands weave their way up the planes of Tooru’s chest until they settle firmly on his shoulders, keeping their positions locked in place. Tobio tastes like mint and fresh water; he probably brushed his teeth when he got home. Tooru pushes ever closer to relish the feeling.

They kiss for a good minute—maybe two—until Tobio is too breathless to continue and gently pulls away.

The shock of being separated is too much for Tooru, though, so he wraps a hand around the back of Tobio’s neck to pull their foreheads together, heaving in the same air. They breathe against one another for a few moments, basking in each others’ presence. 

Tobio’s still wearing his glasses, but they’ve been knocked askew somehow by stray hands. Tobio reaches up to fix them into place. Tooru’s hand joins his and he laces their fingers together. Tobio brushes his fingers along the calluses of Tooru’s hands to the rhythm of their heartbeats.

When their breaths settle into something more normal, Tooru drops his hands and leans forward to press feather-light kisses to the exposed skin of Tobio’s neck, reveling in the way it makes Tobio’s breath hitch.

“You’re impossible,” he whispers into tanned skin.

Tobio makes an indecipherable noise, tilting his head to give Tooru more space. “Only when I’m with you.”

Tooru laughs and gently shifts Tobio around until he’s comfortably sitting in Tooru’s lap. He reaches for the tablet, where the recording of the practice match is still playing, and hooks his chin over Tobio’s once more. This time, Tobio doesn’t shy away from the contact.

If anything, he melts further into Tooru’s grip.

“You know,” Tooru begins, rewinding the video once more, “if you adjust your mid-air posture a little bit, you can get your aim a little more consistent.”

* * *

**Tooru-san changed Tobio-chan’s name to Tobio <3**

* * *

Grumpy Blueberry: i need help

Grumpy Blueberry: sos

Jumping Mandarin: uhhhh

Jumping Mandarin: sorry but i cant help u with the english hw i cant do it either!!

Grumpy Blueberry: not that

Jumping Mandarin: im working on math rn but ist not looking good either

Grumpy Blueberry: no

Grumpy Blueberry: im

Jumping Mandarin: ur?

Grumpy Blueberry: i think im in love, hinata

Jumping Mandarin: oh

Jumping Mandarin: OH MY GOD

Grumpy Blueberry: please dont start

Grumpy Blueberry: i really dont need that right now

Jumping Mandarin: alright

Jumping Mandarin: u ok?

Grumpy Blueberry: i think im freaking out actually

Jumping Mandarin: is that why u sos’d?

Grumpy Blueberry: yes

Grumpy Blueberry: this cant be happening

Grumpy Blueberry: this cant be real, no way

Jumping Mandarin: yama, breathe

Grumpy Blueberry: i think i love him but theres no way he does too

**Jumping Mandarin is video-calling Grumpy Blueberry**

* * *

“...is it just me, or is Kageyama… _smiling ?”_

Dramatically, Tanaka and Nishinoya’s heads turn in tandem to look at Kageyama. Koushi wants to laugh at the excessiveness of it all, but he, too, is curious about Daichi’s observation.

True to their Captain’s word, Kageyama is practicing his serve. But instead of the hollow, blank face he usually has when he’s concentrated, his lips are pulled upwards into a tiny smile. Not an evil smirk or a menacing grin—the kinds of smiles he usually sends Hinata’s way—but an actual, delighted smile. He looks excited to serve.

Tossing the ball up and running up into the jump, something about Kageyama’s form seems a little different. Before any of them can blink, the ball hits the opposite side of the court, perfectly in the corner.

It’s a flawless serve by anyone’s standards, and Kageyama seems overjoyed at the course of the ball.

He cheers and laughs alongside Hinata. 

“That’s not his normal serve…” Asahi mumbles, twirling a spare volleyball in his hands. “I’ve only seen him do the stronger one a few times before.”

“He’s told me he has two serves. One that’s more consistent and one that’s more powerful,” Daichi explains, bounce-testing a ball for his own serve. “That’s probably the powerful one he does rarely.”

“Nice serve, Kageyama!” Nishinoya yells across the room. “I wanna try receiving it!”

“Okay.”

“Your serve is almost as scary as Oikawa-san’s, from Seijoh,” Ennoshita comments, having been on the opposite side of the net while Kageyama was serving. And now that it’s been mentioned, Koushi really can see the resemblance between the two serves.

“That’s because it is his serve,” Kageyama shrugs, picking up another ball from the cart. “He taught me how to aim better last night.”

Half the team’s mouths drop open. Koushi’s included. 

_“Last night?!”_

“You know _Oikawa Tooru?”_

“He taught you his serve?”

Kageyama bounces the ball a few times, testing the feel of it on his hands. “He’s been coming over to my house to help me with homework. Yesterday, I was watching our practice match against Nekoma and he watched my serve to give me a few tips.”

Tanaka sputters. “That doesn’t explain how you know him.”

“He was my senpai… apparently. I don’t really remember, but my mom seems to know him.”

Hinata snickers from the corner of the room. “They’ve been _seeing_ each other for a while now…” The team doesn’t miss the way Hinata emphasizes the seeing. Neither does Kageyama.

“Shut up, idiot!”

The team, predictably, loses their shit.

It’s a good seven minutes of nonstop yelling before Daichi threatens the second years enough.

“He was your senpai from Kitagawa Daiichi?” Tsukishima asks Kageyama once the screaming dies down.

“Yeah. He taught me how to set in the beginning… then I apparently learned my serve by watching him.”

“I don’t like those Kitagawa Daiichi kids…” Tsukishima says, sounding more like an old grandpa than anything else. His scowl is palpable, even from under his glasses.

“Oi…” Daichi begins exasperatedly, wanting to end another bickering session before it even begins. “You _do_ realize Kageyama went to Kitaichi, too, right?”

“I do,” Tsukishima brushes it off. “Just thought I should give my opinion since everyone else screamed theirs out already.”

Kageyama narrows his eyes at Tsukishima skeptically, and Koushi does the same. There’s something there that he can’t quite piece together. He doesn’t quite know the history between Kageyama and Tsukishima, but Koushi knew there was much more than they were letting through.

* * *

> **Memories of Tsukishima Kei. During his third year at Amemaru Junior High, at the spring volleyball tournament semi-finals, versus Kitagawa Daiichi.**
> 
> Kei huffed, the sweat dripping uncomfortably down his temples. Kitagawa Daiichi’s volleyball team was even more intense than originally thought. Especially their offensive team—their setter and the two wing-spikers—who seemed to gain two points for every one of Amemaru’s. It was only by sheer luck that Amemaru had managed to take the second set from Kitaichi, with Kei figuring out the setter’s habits and jumping at the best possible times. 
> 
> But then they had switched up the rhythm again after subbing in a different wing spiker, and rapidly started gaining points. Their tosses also started getting much faster. Like, so fast that Kei couldn’t keep up at _all_.
> 
> Going into the tournament, Kei had been relieved that their insanely talented second-year wing-spiker, Keiji, found a decent first-year setter to work with. His cut shots were probably the only thing keeping Amemaru still in the game, aside from Tsukishima’s kill-blocks. 
> 
> Kei watched Kitaichi’s setter—Kageyama Tobio, the “King of the Court”—attempt to block Keiji’s spike, only to have the cross-shot slam onto the court, completely avoiding the block. Kitaichi was still at match point, but if Keiji could keep it up for a few more shots, they could go into a deuce.
> 
> “Nice one, Keiji-kun,” Kei mumbled under his breath, finding amusement in the way the King ordered his minions to focus on Keiji and his cross-shots.
> 
> “You’re having trouble, it seems,” Kei couldn’t help the taunt from escaping his mouth. He took pride in the way the king scowled back at him.
> 
> “Not for long. We’ll stop his cross shots; watch us,” the King growled in return.
> 
> Another rally, with a set to Keiji again. This time, two people—once again, including the King—were prepared to block. Kei was ready to see another one of Keiji’s killer cross-shots, but a third player came out of nowhere and jumped into the block, effectively cutting off the spike. The ball slammed into Amemaru’s side of the court with Yamaguchi diving for it, but to no avail.
> 
> Kei internally groaned, but his attention was brought elsewhere by the sound of the referee’s whistle blowing.
> 
> The three blockers had fallen to the ground. Kei was about to taunt them and laugh at them for being such clumsy elites, but noticed that the entire team seemed to swarm around the fallen trio.
> 
> Two of the players pushed themselves up off the ground with the help of their teammates, but one didn’t get up. 
> 
> Number Two. The _King_.
> 
> With horror, Kei watched as a red puddle began to form around Kageyama Tobio’s unmoving head. He watched as the Kitagawa Daiichi team backed away from their teammate. He watched as Kitagawa Daiichi abandoned their setter, unconscious and bleeding, turning their heads away. He watched as the King’s minions walked off the court, leaving Kageyama Tobio alone on the court with a faceless referee and a nurse by his side. Kitaichi’s Number Five and Six looked like they wanted to run over and help but the looks on the other players’ faces—namely the captain and libero—forced them to plant their feet and turn away.
> 
> Kei watched in horror when they pulled Kageyama Tobio out of the gym on a stretcher, his cape and crown torn and dented, his face—which was usually pulled into a scowl—pale and blank. He looked younger than a third-year junior high schooler and nothing like the tyrant king people said he was. He watched as the king’s mother ran down from the stands and to her son’s side, sobbing into his hand that she clenched tightly in her own. The hands that wouldn’t clench back.
> 
> Kitagawa Daiichi ended up winning the game, celebrating happily with cheers and high-fives, like they hadn’t just lost one of _their own_. 
> 
> Kei vowed to never leave _his o_ wn behind like they did.

* * *

Tobio finds himself more familiar with the brick-paved sidewalk of the town square than the halls of Karasuno. He walks there multiple times a week, counting the number of steps it takes each time before he can see Tooru at the café again. There are flowering trees that line the street, and their sickly-sweet smell makes the faux-European style of the area more apparent. 

Right next to the café, there’s a small little park with a playground and ample shade provided by tall cherry trees. Oftentimes, after finishing their desserts at the café, Tooru and Tobio would come to an empty bench in the park and talk until the sun was low over the horizon. 

Tobio makes it to the café before Tooru does, swinging open the door and letting the bell by the door’s corner ring. He gets himself a menu to figure out which dessert he’s in the mood to try and doesn’t even hear the bell ring again.

“Tobio-chan!”

Tobio turns his head to greet him but before he can respond, Tooru swoops down and presses a quick kiss to Tobio’s lips. He is left frozen as Tooru makes himself comfortable across the table.

“Is that going to become a routine thing?” Tobio asks once he regains his composure.

“The kissing? Yes. Why?” Tooru fixes him with a challenging smirk. “Do you not want it to?”

“I never said that.” Tobio replies innocently. “Just a question.”

_I_ do _want it to be a regular thing_ , Tobio thinks. He glances over at the menu. He still hasn’t picked what dessert he’s going to try today. He’d always pick a new dessert every time they came to Mika’s Café. Sometimes it would be a slice of cake or pie. Sometimes it was a pastry. Once, Tooru even recommended a hot fudge sundae. 

“Try the crème brûlée,” Tooru says, cutting into his thoughts. “I’ve never tried it, but I’ve heard it’s good.”

“My Mama cooks it sometimes,” Tobio mumbles. “Next time you come over, I’ll ask her to make it.”

The excitement in Tooru’s eyes is almost tangible. Tobio meets his gaze with an equally animated smile before turning back to the menu, turning each listed dessert over in his mind as he tries to make a decision.

The waitress comes over to take their order. She’s the same waitress they see every time they come; she must always have the weekday afternoon shifts or something. Tobio looks down at her nametag, committing it to memory. He owes her that much. _Renyo… with the kanjis for “reason” and “provide” ._

“Ready to order?”

“Milk bread and earl grey tea, please.”

The waitress sends Tooru a knowing smile. Tobio wants to make the same smile. Tooru is predictable in the most comforting of ways. She scrawls down the order without really looking, turning to Tobio, who is still eyeing Tooru rather than his menu.

“And you?”

Tobio knows what he wants. He wants every free day to be spent like this; across the table from Tooru, bickering over the table, making too much trouble for the other patrons. He wants happiness to come as readily, and as surely, as Tooru’s milk bread and earl grey tea.

Tobio knows what to order.

“A tropical parfait, please.”

Tooru’s eyes whip to Tobio as he hands the menus back to Renyo-san. She collects them and swiftly makes her way back to the counter. 

Tobio feels Tooru’s eyes on him. And he knows why the order elicited this response; it’s the same parfait Tooru ordered for him the first time they came to the café.

“Thought you wanted to keep trying a new dessert every time?”

Tobio shrugs, fiddling with the linen napkin on the table. “There’s nothing wrong with trying something again.”

Tooru’s face is indecipherable, but there is a tiny downward curve to his mouth. “No, I guess there’s not.”

Tobio grins and leans across the table to kiss the pout off his lips.

He allows himself to believe, just this once, that everything is real.

* * *

_**Tobio <3 changed Tooru-san’s name to Tooru-san<3** _

* * *

> **Memories of Kindaichi Yuutaro. During his third year of junior high school, and last spring volleyball tournament.**
> 
> It was very strange to Yuutaro. The semi-finalists were Amemaru Junior High, a relatively large school with an okay volleyball team. But Kitaichi had so much trouble getting ahead that it was almost laughable.
> 
> Yuutaro remembered playing the same team the year before. He wasn’t actually a starter, but he _had_ switched in when a third-year middle blocker got tired and took a break for a few rallies. They had a wing-spiker who caused some problems for Yuutaro with his cross-shots, but it was overall a landslide victory for Kitagawa Daiichi.
> 
> How had they gotten so good so quickly? 
> 
> Judging by the victim of Kageyama’s glares, it had to be the first-year setter on Amemaru’s team. Maybe the setter the year before hadn’t been the greatest?
> 
> To compensate, Kageyama started doing more of his ‘King-tosses’, as the other third-years liked to call it. It didn’t matter that most of them actually made it over the net, their teammates were pissed.
> 
> “Kageyama!” Their captain-slash-wing spiker hissed after just barely tapping Kageyama’s toss and scoring them a point. “Stop it with the insanely fast shit. None of us can keep up.”
> 
> “Their middle blockers can keep up,” Kageyama protested, gesturing to the tall, blonde Number Three guy on Amemaru’s team. “The fast tosses are the only things keeping us ahead.”
> 
> “Bullshit,” the captain spat out, looking like he wanted to strangle Kageyama. And, that was totally fair, the tosses _were_ really annoying, but Kageyama had a point.
> 
> Kunimi, perhaps the only person left on the team with an inkling left of respect for Kageyama, caught the captain on the shoulder before he could lunge at his Vice-Captain. 
> 
> “Captain, not on the court,” Kunimi warned. “We’re still in the middle of the third set.”
> 
> Yuutaro thanked all the gods he had forgotten to pray to, who still generously offered their mercy. Captain was not a very strong or tall guy, but he still packed a punch that Kageyama would _certainly_ not be able to handle.
> 
> Kageyama’s quick sets miraculously got them five points ahead of Amemaru. The score was 23-18, and the momentum was on Kitaichi’s side.
> 
> But then Amemaru’s Number Five, the crazy cross shot dude, spiked past Kageyama’s block.
> 
> Number Three, a blonde middle-blocker who annoyed every single attacker on Kitaichi's side because of his reads, exchanged a few words with Kageyama—a taunt, if Yuutaro heard correctly—before the game continued: 23-19. Yuutaro was switched out for the libero as Amemaru’s power-server prepared for his shot.
> 
> The Amemaru’s setter prepared for another toss, and Kageyama seemed to recognize a pattern, as he called for the other two to his side of the court.
> 
> “Watch the cross shot!”
> 
> Kitagawa Daiichi’s cheer team drowned out Amemaru’s cheer team. Yuutaro watched it all unfold from the bench. How the second-year middle-blocker and the Captain saw the toss a little too late. How they both jumped with momentum still carrying them sideways. How they blocked the cross-shot for the first time.
> 
> “ _Careful_!” Kunimi’s frantic shout cut through Yuutaro’s thoughts. He had never heard his best friend sound so frantic before.
> 
> And then the captain and the middle-blocker both fell atop Kageyama in a heap.
> 
> Kitaichi’s side of the bleachers erupted in cheers. Match point, after three whole sets. _Finally_.
> 
> Yuutaro let out a relieved breath. The players began to get up off the gym floor.
> 
> But Kageyama didn’t.
> 
> At first Yuutaro thought he was just laying there because of exhaustion: of all the players, Kageyama was one of the only ones who hadn’t been switched out at all. The team’s only other setter was a first-year who had never touched a volleyball before coming to the school. The other regulars could set, sure, but that was only if Kageyama got the first-touch or something small like that. They couldn’t rely on that the whole game.
> 
> But Kageyama didn’t get up.
> 
> “ _Kageyama_!” Kunimi’s cry rang through the gym. Yuutaro didn’t know why, until he saw the pool of blood gathering around Kageyama’s head.
> 
> Kunimi made a move to rush forward, but the captain’s hand on his shoulder prevented him from doing so. The other teammates did the same to Yuutaro on the bench.
> 
> The cheering was silenced after the gravity of the situation was realized, and the on-site nurse rushed to Kageyama’s side. The game was put on hold until Kageyama could be treated.
> 
> When the ambulance came, the nurses asked if anyone on the team wanted to come. Kunimi and Yuutaro, his former best friends before the whole “King” stuff happened, wanted to go, but the look on Captain’s face told them not to. After all, they only had a few more points to go, and Kunimi and Yuutaro were some of the most important regulars.
> 
> After the blood was cleaned up and Kageyama was whisked away, the match resumed.
> 
> Amemaru managed to gain two more points before the match ended with Kitaichi’s victory.
> 
> The glare of Amemaru’s Number Three was palpable under his glasses. Yuutaro felt exposed and drained and _guilty_. 
> 
> Kageyama didn’t come back to school the rest of the week. When Yuutaro and Kunimi went to the incoming first-years assembly at Aoba Johsai a few days after the end of the tournament, they didn’t see him there, either. Yuutaro wanted to text Kageyama; he still had his contact saved even though they hadn’t texted in over a year. But something told him it wouldn’t end the way he wanted it to. He couldn’t do much on his own.
> 
> Instead, he texted Oikawa. Maybe as an older and respected senpai, Oikawa could help Yuutaro.
> 
> _‘Something happened at the match a few days ago, Senpai.’_
> 
> _‘what, were you switched out or smth? lmao^-^’_
> 
> _‘Kageyama-kun got hurt. Badly.’_
> 
> _‘oh. well, if its about him then i dont really care.’_
> 
> _‘Senpai...’_
> 
> _‘thanks for letting me know, kin-kun, but i have homework to do <(x.x)’ _
> 
> And that was that. Kageyama didn’t come back to school. Yuutaro never knew what happened to him; if he was even alive and well.
> 
> When Yuutaro saw Kageyama with Karasuno—tall and healthy, yet quiet like he didn’t quite fit in, like he was lost and still searching for his way—he knew he should’ve sent that text message.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are sometimes little visions that come to Tobio. Hallucinations. The doctors say it might be his memories coming back slowly. They’re real things, just not _today’s_ real things. Tobio will reach out and try to grab the people, the things, that look so real only for them to disappear in a wisp of smoke. Tobio scoffs every time it happens. _They’re not real,_ he vehemently denies. _Real things don’t just disappear._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just some context for a joke that's about to come up:
> 
> Yamaguchi and Kageyama both share the same character. The "yama", which means mountain. So "Yamayama" means "mountain mountain". 
> 
> Tobio sounds like tobiou, the word for "flying fish".
> 
> "-sama" is a title often used for those with lots of power or authority, like a CEO, king, god, etc.

Lil Yama: i need help miwa-chan

Big Yama: you haven’t texted me in like two weeks and this is the greeting i get??

Lil Yama: im sorry, nee-chan, it’s nice to talk to u again

Lil Yama: but im really confused

Big Yama: homework?

Lil Yama: no i have someone tutoring me

Lil Yama: its not that

Big Yama: what is it then?

Lil Yama: i think im in a relationship w someone

Lil Yama: but i dont really know for sure...

Big Yama: ??

Big Yama: what??

Lil Yama: yeah what i said

Big Yama: you THINK??

Lil Yama: we havent really talked abt it but… yeah

Big Yama: do you have sex?

Lil Yama: what

Lil Yama: no!

Lil Yama: im only fifteen, nee-chan

Big Yama: ding ding ding!

Big Yama: correct answer!!

Lil Yama: -_-

Big Yama: are you exclusive?

Lil Yama: what does that mean?

Big Yama: she’s not seeing anyone else, right?

Lil Yama: not that i know of

Big Yama: do you trust her?

Lil Yama: yes

Lil Yama: with my life

Big Yama: let’s not get too carried away here, tobi, you’re not saying your wedding vows

Big Yama: (yet)

Big Yama: but alright then

Big Yama: do you go on dates?

Lil Yama: we stay at my house a lot, and we go to a cafe by the hospital once or twice a week

Big Yama: ok that’s great

Big Yama: i’d say she’s your girlfriend!

Lil Yama: boyfriend

Big Yama: yes, that would make you her boyfriend

Big Yama: my baby brother’s all grown up now ;-;

Lil Yama: no, i mean he’s my boyfriend.

Lil Yama: he’s a guy

Big Yama: oh

Lil Yama: ...yeah

Big Yama: OH!!!

Lil Yama: miwa-chan?

Big Yama: OOHHHHHHHHHH

Lil Yama: nee-chan???

Big Yama: SQUEEEEEEEEEEE

Lil Yama: oh no

**Big Yama is video-calling Lil Yama**

**Lil Yama declined the call from Big Yama**

**Big Yama is video-calling Lil Yama**

Lil Yama: STOOOPpp

**Big Yama is video-calling Lil Yama**

**Big Yama is video-calling Lil Yama**

**Big Yama is video-calling Lil Yama**

**(12 missed calls from Big Yama)**

* * *

Since Tobio first woke up after the accident, he’s attempted to convince himself over and over that it’s all just a bad dream. That sometime soon, he’ll wake up in a world where he’s still in elementary school. Where Miwa still lives with them in their comfy little house by Kitagawa Daiichi. That his grandfather would still be alive and teaching him more volleyball skills like he always used to. That he’s not lost in a world where everything is unfamiliar and confusing, and it’s all some weird fever dream.

But then Tobio wakes up to the same white ceiling and empty walls and he wonders—if there really is a God up there like Grandma used to say—why has he cursed Tobio in such a cruel manner.

“What are you thinking about?” Tooru asks, pressing a kiss to the tip of Tobio’s nose and effectively cutting his train of thought. He walks backwards and sinks back into the cushions of Tobio’s bed, allowing Tobio the space to work freely at the desk.

“Not much…” Tobio responds but that alone doesn’t really phase him back into the real world.

“As per usual,” Tooru quips. “We already had dinner. You shouldn’t be this out-of-it.”

Tobio takes his eraser and throws it with perfect aim to the center of Tooru’s forehead. Those moments of inhuman aim, of perfectly-honed muscle memory that Tobio has no memory of… _those_ are the things that truly wake him up and allow him to realize that everything isn’t a dream. He’s happy that he’s actually a setter now—and a damned good one, at that—but he’s sad he doesn’t remember working towards it.

 _The work is what makes the victory sweeter_ , Grandpa used to say. _Used to_.

Unfortunately, Tooru is _also_ a setter, and that means his reflexes are honed enough to catch the eraser in midair before it can hit him.

Tobio sneers and goes back to his math homework. Sometimes, the whole “Tooru situation”, as Tobio calls it, feels a lot more surreal than anything else does at this point in Tobio’s life. Tooru is an enigma; while all the other points of Tobio’s past seem to make sense, Tooru just _doesn’t_. He doesn’t fit in anywhere in the imaginary map Tobio has constructed.

But somehow, Tooru fits into the _now_. He’s burrowed a little hole under Tobio’s heart like he plans on staying there, and Tobio’s not in any rush to kick him out. 

There are sometimes little visions that come to Tobio. Hallucinations. The doctors say it might be his memories coming back slowly. They’re _real_ things, just not _today’s_ real things. Tobio will reach out and try to grab the people, the _things_ , that look so _real_ only for them to disappear in a wisp of smoke. Tobio scoffs every time it happens. _They’re not real_ , he vehemently denies. _Real things don’t just disappear._

The thoughts flying around Tobio’s head make him mess up an equation. He grunts and feels around for his eraser before remembering that he threw it at Tooru earlier. Tobio gets up and walks to his bed, reaching over Tooru’s head to pluck the eraser from atop his chest.

But Tooru’s hand grasps at his own and suddenly, Tobio’s world is flipped upside down with Tooru’s smug face staring down at him.

“You haven’t been paying attention to me, Tobio,” Tooru accuses with a pout resting on his face. “I’m a very needy boyfriend, and I need lots of love and care.”

 _Boyfriend_.

The very word makes Tobio shudder, from his toes all the way up to his ears. Tooru seems to notice, as he presses closer, dropping down so his weight rests on his elbows. Their faces are much closer, now. 

_It’s real._

Regardless of how warm and comfortable he feels, Tobio tries to push Tooru off him. But Tooru is stronger, heavier, and has the upper-hand. He doesn’t disappear in a wisp of smoke like everything else does. _He’s actually there_.

“I need to do my homework, Tooru-san—”

“No, you need to give me attention!” Tooru interjects, pressing his nose to the underside of Tobio’s jaw.

Tobio lets out a disbelieving huff, accepting his fate. Tooru’s warmth is comforting, not overbearing, and his weight is like a heavy blanket over Tobio. Tobio falls a little too eagerly into the tidal wave that is Oikawa Tooru.

When Tooru climbs up a little to join their lips together, Tobio sighs happily into the kiss. It’s like they finally slot into place as easily as Tobio’s hand slides into Tooru’s hair—two puzzle pieces joining in the perfect fit to complete the picture. Tooru was the final piece Tobio was looking for.

Tooru seems to agree, wrapping both his arms under the small of Tobio’s back so his back arches up into Tooru. His fingertips brush against bare skin when the hem of Tobio’s shirt rides up. Tobio moans and allows himself to be pulled into whatever shape Tooru wants. 

_I’d give him everything_ , Tobio thinks, _anything and everything_.

“I love you,” Tooru whispers against his lips, tilting his head to taste Tobio from a different angle. He says it again and again and again and Tobio believes him wholeheartedly.

And it should all be too soon for those three words. They’ve only _really_ started talking for three-maybe-four weeks now, and been _something more_ for only a week. It _should_ feel like they’re going too fast.

But somehow, it all feels _right_.

And nothing in Tobio’s life since the accident ever really felt _right_ other than volleyball. Not the way Mama seemed to cower whenever Tobio so much as mentioned volleyball. Not in the way opposing teams during practice matches would point at Tobio and whisper about him like Tobio doesn’t know what they’re talking about. Not in the way Kazuyo and Miwa aren’t in the kitchen when he wakes up and goes downstairs. Not in the way Tobio’s entire world has been uprooted and everyone keeps saying _he forgot_ and _he’s not the same_ and somehow they’ve come to mean _he’s not normal_ and _he’s the broken one_.

So, Tobio lets himself be consumed by Tooru’s overwhelming presence. He lets Tooru pick apart the scraps that remain of the old Tobio and build him into something new. Something better and stronger and more _whole_ than before.

The final smoky wisps of the memories fade away, and Tobio is left with the vibrant, all-encompassing warmth that Tooru makes of his universe. It doesn’t matter who Tobio _used to be_ or _used to know_. All that matters is the tangible piece of his own heart that he holds in his hands, present in the form of one Oikawa Tooru.

“Tobio,” Tooru says against his lips, and the groggy way the syllables form makes something churn inside Tobio. He grasps harder at Tooru’s jacket with one hand, tracing his fingers up Tooru’s spine with another until he reaches his hair, tugging gently. The groan Tooru lets out is positively _delicious_.

Tobio waits until their frantic passion dies down into something more manageable; a steady flame rather than an uncontrollable wildfire. Tooru has resorted to hugging Tobio, and pressing kisses to his shoulder so often that Tobio can feel the heat that lingers there even through his t-shirt.

He takes the hand grasped in Tooru’s hair and begins to gently stroke through the strands, letting his fingers comb through in a manner he hopes is comforting. 

Tobio feels anchored under Tooru’s weight. Like a typhoon could come and sweep the entire mountain away, but Tobio would still be safe in Tooru’s arms.

Tobio says it back, because it feels right. Because he believes it. Because he hopes Tooru believes it.

“I love you too.”

* * *

>   
>  **Memories of Kageyama Tobio. During his sixth grade year.**
> 
> “Kazuyo-san, when’s Mama coming home?”
> 
> Kazuyo looked down at Tobio with a small smile, the wrinkled corners of his eyes turning up as he regarded his only grandson. He tossed the ball up in the air, letting Tobio catch it as he kneeled down next to Tobio’s bed so they were closer. He reached over and tucked the blankets a little more securely under Tobio’s neck, an endearing little gesture that Tobio’s a bit too old for, but he couldn’t care less.
> 
> “Your Mama’s busy in Tokyo, Tobio-kun. You know she’s a head chef at one of those restaurants that a lot of foreigners go to, right? So she can only come back a few times a year.”
> 
> Tobio looked down at the ball, twisting it in his hands. 
> 
> “But a lot of my classmates say their Mamas and Papas are always at home. Why aren’t mine ever home?”
> 
> “They’re always busy. Besides,” Kazuyo stood up and held out his hand to take the ball back, “you have Miwa-chan and I. We’ll always be here for you.”
> 
> Tobio tossed the ball to his grandfather and grinned widely—well, as wide as Tobio’s smiles _can_ get. Kazuyo placed Tobio’s ball on the dresser by the door, shut off the lights and closed the door to Tobio’s room.

The dream disappears in a tiny, hazy bubble of grey smoke. Tobio wakes up feeling incredibly warm and tired, with a heavy weight on his chest. The lights are off and it’s still dark outside, so one of Tobio’s parents must’ve shut off the lights after Tobio fell asleep. 

Tobio glances at his clock and realizes it’s just before sunrise, the fiery wisps of a phoenix-like dawn just breaking over the horizon. Tobio stares at the light coming through his window with something akin to wonder. He’d never seen such a vivid twilight.

The heavy weight on his chest shifts a little.

Startled, he looks down to spot Tooru making a pillow of his chest, nuzzled close with his limbs wrapped around Tobio like some demonic octopus. Tobio smiles and sinks into the warmth. It isn’t the first time Tooru’s slept over after realizing it was too late to take the bus back home. But it _is_ the first time they’ve ended up sharing the bed. 

For once, Tobio is not unsettled by the ghostly apparitions of his grandfather and his old life. Because he has something _real_ in his hands.

Tobio lets himself fall deeper into Tooru’s welcoming, engulfing soul.

* * *

Carrot: if yamaguchi married into kageyama’s family, he would be kageyama yamaguchi.

Carrot: the ultimate yamayama-kun

Yama: omg hinata ~(o///o)~

Tobiou: should i be offended im not /already/ the ultimate yamayama?

Salty: You’re a flying fish, why do you need to be a Yamayama?

Tobiou: but tobious arent yamayama-kuns ;-;

Carrot: yamayama tobiou XD

Salty: Tobiou Osama.

Yama: mountain-mountain flying-fish-sama, it’s nice to meet you

**Yama changed Tobiou’s name to mountain-mountain flying-fish-sama**

mountain-mountain flying-fish-sama: stop insulting my pride like thiss t(-A-)t

**Yama changed mountain-mountain flying-fish-sama’s name to Tobiou-sama**

Salty: Why am I even in this groupchat.

Tobiou-sama: dont u mean ?

Salty: It was a rhetorical question, you primordial ooze. Therefore, a question mark is not required as I’m not actually inquiring for an answer. You would know this if you actually deigned to pay attention in Japanese Lit.

Carrot: ouch !!

Carrot: nice kill, tsukishima!!

Tobiou-sama: ...

Yama: be nice tsukki! @o@

Salty: You’re asking for the impossible, Yamaguchi.

Yama: -_-

Salty: Also, can you change my chat name already?

**Yama changed Salty’s name to No**

No: Really?

**Yama changed No’s name to Yep**

Yep: this is worse

**Yama changed Yep’s name to Salty**

Carrot: what does deigned mean !!!

Tobiou-sama: what does inquiring mean?

Carrot: lmao twinsies !!!

Carrot: anyways we all know the marriage is never going to happen!

Tobiou-sama: wait what why not?

Yama: is this ur way of confessing to me kageyama? ^~^

Tobiou-sama: in ur dreams

Tobiou-sama: u’ll never be the ultimate yamayama-kun

Yama: :(

Salty: Oh please, we all know Kageyama’s going to marry Oikawa from Seijoh.

Yama: o yea!

Carrot: lol true

Salty: Oikawa Tobio has a nice ring to it

Yama: or Kageyama Tooru

Carrot: no !! the first one soufnds better

Tobiou-sama: uhhh what

Salty: You are dating him, right?

Tobiou-sama: i…

Tobiou: i guess so, yeah.

Carrot: bruh whats that supposed to mean!!!!

Yama: i think that means its up in the air 

Tobiou-sama: No, we are dating. At least I think...

Salty: ...oh my god he used perfect grammar and punctuation

Yama: OH MY GOD TSUKKI DIDNT USE PERFECT GRAMMAR AND PUNCTUATION

Carrot: i call best man at the wedding!!!!!!!!

Tobiou-sama: There’s not going to be a damn wedding!

Salty: OH MY GOD HE DID IT AGAIN

Yama: WHAT IS HAPPENING :OOOOOOO

Salty: KAGEYAMA ARE YOU OKAY

Yama: TSUKKI ARE Y O U OKAY???

Tobiou-sama: oh my god someone choke me

Carrot: …?

Carrot: ...are u into that?

Tobiou-sama: No, I just wanna die.

Salty: omg same tho.

Yama: yo i think im actually having a stroke. what the hecking duck.

* * *

When Tobio got to Mika’s Café on Tuesday, Tooru was already waiting at one of the booths. Except this time, he had someone with him. Tobio greeted the two of them with a small bow before sitting across the table. Tooru’s eyebrows ruffled at the display of respect but Tobio would rather be respectful than piss off Tooru’s friend.

“Hello, Tooru-san.”

“Tobio! This is my best friend, Iwaizumi Hajime. He also went to Kitagawa Daiichi,” Tooru says, gesturing to the man sitting next to him.

Iwaizumi nods his head and says a curt greeting.

“Does that mean I used to know you, too?” Tobio asks, his voice a little quieter than usual.

“Yeah. You actually used to hang around me a little more because Oikawa here was always busy,” Iwaizumi says, elbowing the setter in question.

Tooru hisses and elbows Iwaizumi back. “Stop telling him lies, Iwa-chan.”

Tobio chuckles and shakes his head. He opens his mouth to ask another question, but their regular waitress, Renyo, walks over with a notepad in hand.

“Hello sir, what can I get for you?” She speaks directly to Iwaizumi. 

Tobio makes eye contact with Tooru across the table somehow, and Tooru is giving him a scrutinizing look as Iwaizumi orders. Tobio returns the look as long as he can, before Renyo-san talks to the two of them instead.

“Your regular orders today?”

“Yes, thank you, Haruka-san,” Tooru replies, shattering the moment like glass as he looks away.

Tobio huffs and shifts impatiently in his seat. 

“So, Kageyama, how’s Karasuno? How’s your team?” Iwaizumi asks.

It’s all too comfortable for Tobio to begin talking about volleyball, even to a stranger like Iwaizumi. He begins recounting their recent practice matches, how well the team gets along, the latest drama in the club room, with Iwaizumi listening intently. 

Tobio doesn’t understand how a person like Iwaizumi—someone so formal and genuine—can get along with a wild spitfire like Tooru. They seem like polar opposites; but then again, maybe that’s the reason they get along so well.

Their orders come soon, too, and Tobio picks at his tropical parfait, too distracted by telling his story to eat properly.

“You’ve made a lot of friends, I hope?” 

Tobio shrugs. “There’s just my team. I don’t really talk a lot in school. Hinata—a middle blocker on my team—is my best friend. I’m really close to the other first-years, though we bicker a lot. And our vice-captain is another setter. He’s been teaching me a lot.”

“You’ve been learning stuff from him?” Tooru inquires, the first thing he’s said in a while.

Tobio nods. “He’s a great strategist. He says I’m a little more straight-forward in my plays, so he’s always giving me tips to throw the other team off.”

Iwaizumi asks a few more questions. Tobio does the same back. It’s like Tooru is barely there, and while Tobio definitely doesn’t mind talking to Iwaizumi, he came there in the first place to see _Tooru_. 

Soon, they’re already paying for their food and leaving the booth.

“Iwa-chan, head to the bus stop without me,” Tooru says over his shoulder, taking both of Tobio’s hands in his own. “I’m going to speak to Tobio-chan for a bit.”

“Don’t be too long,” Iwaizumi warns before he disappears around a corner, headed down the street to the bus station.

“Why did you bring him here?” Tobio immediately pouts, voice a little hushed just in case Iwaizumi could still hear them. 

A frown comes to rest on Tooru’s face, more serious than Tobio’s ever seen him. “Did you not like Iwa-chan?”

“I did like him!” Tobio protests. “But I wanted to spend time with you, not him! We’re barely going to see each other these next few weeks because of Inter-High so I would’ve rather talked to you.”

A look of understanding fills Tooru’s face and he tugs Tobio closer, filling their embrace with apology and warmth. Tobio melts into his arms, hugging back as tightly as he can manage.

“I’m sorry, Tobio-chan. I just wanted you to meet Iwa-chan. He’s an important part of my life, like you are, and he’s been feeling pretty guilty about your injury ever since he first found out. I just thought it would be good for him to see that you’re doing fine.”

“...I understand.”

Tooru pulls away from the hug, reaching up a hand to brush some of Tobio’s bangs out of his eyes; he really needs to get his sister to cut them soon.

“Thank you, Tobio.”

Tobio doesn’t really know when _Tobio-chan_ turned into _Tobio_ without the honorific, but he isn’t complaining.

Tooru smiles before tilting his chin down and stealing a kiss.

“I love you, Tobio,” he says, with another quick press of his lips to the tip of Tobio’s nose.

He pulls away before Tobio can react and walks towards the bus stop, a cheeky wave over his shoulder being the only goodbye he leaves Tobio with.

Tobio watches him disappear around the corner of a bookstore before turning and beginning to walk home, still feeling breathless when he arrives at his front gate.

* * *

Tooru-san<3: r u gonna be at mikas cafe tomorrow after school? -3-

Tobio<3: no, sorry

Tooru-san<3: °`~ —(＞A＜)—~`° whyyyyyyyy

Tobio<3: i have a doctors appointment 

Tooru-san<3: oh

Tooru-san<3: okay then, maybe next time

Tobio<3: just like that?

Tooru-san<3: huh?

Tobio<3: didnt expect you to let it go that easily

Tooru-san<3: well i want you to be healthy and going to your appointments is whats best for you

Tooru-san<3: i can wait a few more days to see you if it means youre going to be alright

Tooru-san<3: tobio?

Tooru-san<3: you okay?

Tobio<3: yes

Tooru-san<3: are you blushing rn… (。＞ω＜)。

Tobio<3: maybe

Tooru-san<3: awwww my cute little tobio-chan

Tobio<3: stop it with the -chan

Tooru-san<3: nEVER

Tobio<3: ohhhh my god

Tooru-san<3: alright i have to go to practice now before iwa-chan kicks me in the head

Tobio<3: ok

Tooru-san<3: ill see you soon

Tobio<3: see you, tooru-san

Tooru-san<3: i love you

Tobio<3: ok

Tobio<3: bye

Tooru-san<3: -_-

Tobio<3: i love you too, tooru-san

Tooru-san<3: Ｏ(≧▽≦)Ｏ

* * *

“In all honesty, Tobio, I’m sot sure why you haven’t gotten your memories back by now,” Sawamura-sensei tells Tobio and his parents at the appointment. “It’s been long enough for your brain to recover fully from your concussion. As far as we know, nothing was severely damaged. While your skull _was_ fractured during the impact, it shouldn’t have caused any long-term damage.”

“Is it possible he’ll never regain them?” Tobio’s mother asks. Mama’s voice sounds small—gravely frightened.

“I doubt so… The human brain is a complicated place. We can never truly know what will happen,” Sawamura-sensei says, a deep exhaustion set in her words. “I think it may take a while longer, but I doubt his memories are completely gone. He didn’t lose brain matter… the signals are there, they just need a push to get them working again.”

Sawamura-sensei closes her binder and set it aside. “I wish I could be of more use to you, but I don’t have the answers. I think you should start by showing Tobio-kun old photographs or videos—anything you can find. Tell him the stories that go with each item in the house. One of the memories might end up being the trigger for the rest of the memories to return.”

“Okay. We’ll do that,” Mama says, a harsh finality to her words. “Tobio’s been doing fine at his new school, but I can tell it’s been difficult with three years of his life lost to him.”

“Oh?” Sawamura-sensei prods, her eyes sparkling with a curiosity that she shares with Daichi. “How have things been going at Karasuno? Is Daichi treating you well?”

“Yes, Sensei. Daichi-san’s been very accomodating. The whole team has, really. I’m really excited to be playing with them.”

“You guys have the Inter-High qualifiers coming soon, right?”

“Yes… My husband and I were reluctant to let him play in another tournament, but what can we do?” Mama sighs, placing a hand on top of Tobio’s head and looking straight into her son’s eyes. A small smile curls her lips upwards. “Volleyball is what he loves. How could we take that away from him when he’s already lost so much?”

* * *

Jumping Mandarin: cn i come over tmr after school?

Grumpy Blueberry: no

Jumping Mandarin: meanie!! daichi-san evn shortened practice n all to give us a break… esp you, mister hotshot setter, you~~

Grumpy Blueberry: sry

Grumpy Blueberry: im surprising tooru-san after oractice

Grumpy Blueberry: he said he wanted to see me, but with inter-high coming up and my doctors appointments we havent really talked much so i thought i would go see him

Grumpy Blueberry: he knows my schedule and he thinks we have long practice for inter-high so i thought this would be nice

Jumping Mandarin: oh ok !

Grumpy Blueberry: y, did u want to study or smth?

Jumping Mandarin: yeah, yuo got a better grade on the last english test than i did so i wsa hoping ud help me

Grumpy Blueberry: tooru-san taught me some memory devices

Grumpy Blueberry: ill show u tomorrow before school

Jumping Mandarin: alrigth!! thx !

Jumping Mandarin: have fun on your date !!

Grumpy Blueberry: its not a date -_-

Jumping Mandarin: its totally a date, yama-kun!!!!!!

Grumpy Blueberry: ...maybe its a date…

Jumping Mandarin: ! ! !

Jumping Mandarin: the best friend is never wrong, yama-kun!!

**Grumpy Blueberry changed Jumping Mandarin’s name to Jumping Brat**

Jumping Brat: >:(

* * *

Practice ends after just a few spiking, receiving, and blocking drills. The team doesn’t split up into two groups and play a practice match; Daichi and Coach simply excuse everyone for the day with strict orders to get some rest.

Tobio changes out of his practice clothes quickly and walks with some of the second-years to the bus station by the hospital: Ennoshita, Tanaka, and Nishinoya. He doesn’t really add to the conversation; pretty much just lets Tanaka and Nishinoya talk about their day while he and Ennoshita exchange exasperated glances behind their backs.

“Which bus are you taking, Kageyama?”

“The one to Aoba Johsai Mountain.”

“Ehhh?” Tanaka smirks, slinging an arm around Tobio’s shoulders. “You going to see your boyfriend?”

“Yes. We haven’t been able to see each other for a while so I’m going to surprise him.”

The grin on Nishinoya’s face is as wide as can be. “You know, for such a prickly guy, you’re actually pretty sweet, Kageyama.”

Tobio’s face flushes a scarlet that causes all three of his senpais to tease him until their bus finally arrives at the stop.

Tobio steps on the next bus, wondering if Aoba Johsai’s practice will be finished or not. Although Karasuno’s practice was technically shortened, it still ran well into the afternoon… and Seijoh’s practices tended to end earlier than Karasuno’s because they had more throughout the week. (Seijoh’s volleyball team didn’t have to share a gym with the basketball team, unlike Karasuno.)

When Tobio finally arrives at Aoba Johsai, thankfully, most of the students are gone. None of them notice his out-of-place black tracksuit, so he makes his way to the gym. The sun sits just above the horizon, coloring the sky a deep orange. Team practice is already over, which means Tobio has Tooru mostly to himself.

He is able to peek through some of the lower windows on the way to the entrance, seeing just Iawizumi and Tooru practicing spikes on an empty court.

Thankfully, neither Iwaizumi nor Tooru notice him peeking in through the windows, so he walks as quietly as possible, masking the sound of his footsteps by rolling his sneakers heel-to-toe on the concrete sidewalk. A private smile comes to rest on his face as he imagines the surprise on Tooru’s face when he finds out Tobio came to visit him.

“Well, did you?” Iwaizumi aks.

“Did I what?” Tooru responds, voice inquisitive.

“Accept Kageyama’s confession in junior high school?” 

Tobio freezes in his place, eyes flickering up to the open gym door, hoping the conversation isn’t going where he thinks it is. He _knows_ it’s horrible to eavesdrop. But he couldn’t help but listen in.

“Of course not! I hated him, you remember!” Tooru huffs, as if amused by the very notion. Tobio can feel his heart dropping down into his stomach and his throat beginning to close up. He considers speaking up; asking if he misheard or not, but Tooru continues and Tobio stops to listen.

“I didn’t want to be within ten feet of him unless I had to.”

 _No. No no no no no, this can’t be happening_ , Tobio thinks desperately. He wonders if it’s all real, or if this is just another hallucination, like the tall shadows he first saw after waking up from his coma, or the memories that would disappear in a wisp of smoke before Tobio could truly comprehend them.

Hajime seems to consider this for a moment before he chuckles, the breath bubbling out of his throat lightly, “Yeah, you couldn’t stand him at all.”

“Hah. He was _insufferable_ as a junior high schooler. I thought ‘good riddance’ when I left… Except on graduation day.”

 _Bang_.

The killing shot.

Determination filling his veins, Tobio walks up the two steps to the threshold of the gym, even as he feels his vision blurring and his chest constricting. He takes in the scene: Iwaizumi lounged on one of the gym benches and Tooru standing by the volleyball cart, a lazy smile on his face.

It takes everything in Tobio’s body to disturb the peace.

“T-Tooru-san.”

Tobio wonders if Tooru will disappear in a wisp. Like everything else did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sooorryyyyyyyy *~`(>A<)
> 
> but not really


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jumping Mandarin: why is oikawa not answering his phone
> 
> Jumping Mandarin: why are YOU not answering your phone
> 
> Jumping Mandarin: someone told me there was an ambulance at seijoh??
> 
> Jumping Mandarin: kageyama, seriously, are you okay?
> 
> Jumping Mandarin: im calling daichi-san and suga-san

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aahhhhhh sorry this took like a week,,, i didn't mean to be gone so long
> 
> i've been really hooked by baseball anime recently so i havent been editing (but i have been writing fics for said baseball animes so... be on the lookout for those)

Practice was insufferable.

It was that horrible transition period between spring and summer where the days were moist with the remnants of spring rain, but the sun scorched the earth with powerful near-summer rays. After the practice match that day, Tooru stayed behind with Hajime to cool down a bit; they always walked home together and decided it would be better to wait until the sun went down than to walk home in the hot sun.

So they both practiced serves.

With every jump, Tooru couldn’t seem to forget Tobio’s form in mid-air. How his back tilted slightly farther back than Tooru’s. How his swings weren’t as wide as Tooru’s. All the tiny little details about his form that distracted Tooru from _his own_ form while serving.

“You seem out-of-practice,” Hajime comments after Tooru’s third missed serve in a row.

 _Shut up_ , Tooru wants to hiss. _I know I’m shit today but I can’t get him out of my mind_. He didn’t even notice that Hajime was no longer practicing, in favor of watching Tooru.

“It’s all those dates with Tobio-chan,” Tooru sighs out instead, rubbing his aching shoulder. It isn’t too far from the truth, anyways. “I haven’t been staying after-school as much to work on my serves.”

Hajime rolls his eyes. “At least you’re finally talking to him. Just don’t screw this up. And don’t get distracted from volleyball. An idiot like you would do both easily.”

“Mean, Iwa-chan!” Tooru whines, feeling more affronted than angry. “Says the brute!”

Hajime ignores the retort, crossing the gym to where their things sat by the wall. He grabs both his and Tooru’s water bottles, tossing Tooru’s over in a tall arc. “Why did you decide to make a move on him, anyways?”

“You know he confessed to me after graduation,” Tooru says into the stale gym air, still breathing hard from the extra practice. He takes a long, contemplative drink from his bottle before continuing. “He caught me after I walked away from my family to go to the bathroom. I was standing in the middle of the halls with the windows that face the courtyard—you know, the ones with the cherry blossoms?”

Hajime hums but otherwise doesn’t give any input.

“He called my name and I turned around. And his eyes were so determined,” Tooru makes a vague gesture to his face, his eyes distant. Contented. “He straightened his spine and looked up at me with a red blush on his cheeks and told me he liked me. And then he ran up to me and kissed me on the lips. I was too stunned by the affection that I didn’t realize I hadn’t turned him down or accepted him yet.”

A private smile comes to rest on his face and Tooru is forever thankful that the rest of the team isn’t there to see him being a lovesick idiot; Makki and Mattsun tease him enough about Tobio already. He didn’t need even more negativity in his life, thank you very much.

“Well, did you?” Hajime prompts after a moment of silence, pulling Tooru out of his thoughts.

“Did I what?”

“Accept Kageyama’s confession in junior high school?”

“Of course not! I hated him, you remember!” Tooru accuses, huffing petulantly. He scoffs a little, amused, wiping away beads of sweat with his wrist. “I didn’t want to be within ten feet of him unless I had to.”

Hajime seems to consider this for a moment before he chuckles, the breath bubbling out of his throat lightly, “Yeah, you couldn’t stand him at all.”

Tooru breathes out a laugh. “He was insufferable as a junior high schooler. I thought ‘good riddance’ when I left… Except on graduation day.”

_Except for the day he kissed me._

There’s a knowing look in Hajime’s eyes. Tooru innocently looks away, blatantly ignoring the blush sitting high on his cheeks.

“T-Tooru-san?”

_Speak of the devil._

“Tobio-chan!” Tooru exclaims, overwhelmed with happiness at Tobio’s presence.

“Kageyama-kun,” Hajime begins, but pauses when he sees the anger burning in Tobio’s eyes. 

Tobio strides forward, gaze alight with fury even as they watered with tears. 

“Was it all a lie?” He hisses as soon as he stands right in front of Tooru. Said setter didn’t know how to respond. “Was I just some _conquest_ for you? A challenge? A bet that you could brag about later on?”

“Hold on, Tobio-chan, what are you—”

“I can’t believe I trusted you!” Tobio bursts out as the tears roll freely down his cheeks. Tooru freezes, his mind working overtime to try to understand the violent burst of emotion. “I can’t believe I thought it was all real.”

Tobio immediately turns on his heel, on his way out just as quickly as he came. 

“What do you mean?”

“Kageyama!”

“Tobio-chan,” Tooru pleads, voice desperate as if he expects Tobio to walk, and keep walking. To disappear from his life as quickly as he did the first time.

But his shoes squeak to a stop on the gym floor. He turns back around, looking crazed.

“No, you know, what I _really_ can’t believe is the fact that _I changed my mind about you_ ,” he sobs out, weakly gesturing with his hands. He feels the strength leaving him like a bucket pouring out water. “I always knew that it was too good to be true. That there’s no way someone like _you_ could truly love someone like _me_. But I changed my mind. Every time you hugged me, I convinced myself it was real. Every time you kissed me, I told myself you really wanted to, and it wasn’t just a game. Every time you told me you loved me, I— I didn’t think—”

“Tobio, I _do_ love you!”

“And why should I believe you?!” He heaves in a breath and seems to settle, the shock anchoring itself in his bones. “I felt like I _finally_ broke free of who I was before the accident. You made everything feel alright...”

A horrified silence rings through the gym as all three inhabitants realize the gravity of his words.

“But…” Tobio begins quietly, feeling the world turn on its axis, his knees buckling as he sobs, “it was all a lie… Everything I thought I knew is a lie...”

“Tobio!”

Tobio’s head hits the ground before Tooru or Hajime can catch him.

* * *

Jumping Mandarin: howd it go ? !!

Jumping Mandarin: lol what ws the expression on his face

Jumping Mandarin: kageyama?!

Jumping Mandarin: kageyama-kun??

Jumping Mandarin: bro at leaetst send me a random keysmash to elt me know u got there ok

Jumping Mandarin: tobiooooooooo-kuuuuuuuuuunnnn

**Jumping Mandarin is calling Grumpy Blueberry**

**(5 missed calls from Jumping Mandarin)**

Jumping Mandarin: why is oikawa not answering his phone

Jumping Mandarin: why are YOU not answering your phone

Jumping Mandarin: someone told me there was an ambulance at seijoh??

Jumping Mandarin: kageyama, seriously, are you okay?

Jumping Mandarin: im calling daichi-san and suga-san

* * *

“He’ll be fine,” the doctor says, and Kaori and Tooru sigh at the same time.

Tooru clenches his fists by his sides; he was _so stupid_ to not have even realized Tobio was standing there. The distress he was clearly in… Tooru doesn’t want to ever see that look on Tobio’s face again. It made Tooru feel like his entire world was collapsing—and seeing Tobio collapse like that, it might as well have been true.

“He’ll wake up in a little bit,” the doctor continues, breaking into Tooru’s thoughts. “He may have a minor concussion but it shouldn’t cause any problems. He is unconscious due to mental stress, not physical. There is nothing more we can do for him. As soon as he wakes, he’s free to be discharged. Just have him take it easy for the next few days.”

“Thank you, Sawamura-sensei.”

Tooru and Kaori bow to the doctor as she leaves the room. Tooru inwardly lets out a long sigh, feeling all his muscles simultaneously relax from their tensed state.

“M-mama?”

“Tobio?!”

Immediately, Tooru and Kaori rush to either of Tobio’s sides, each taking a hand.

“How do you feel? Does your head hurt?” Kaori asks, pushing Tobio’s bangs back to look at the bruise that sits right above the scar by his eyebrow.

“N-no. I feel fine.”

Tobio turns to Tooru.

“Tooru-sa—” he pauses. “Oikawa-senpai,” he amends, and Tooru feels his heart shatter into dust. Tobio’s eyes are wide, betrayed, and Tooru knows then… that Tobio _knows_. Knows everything, including the truth behind the carefully-constructed fairytale that Tooru has constructed around them.

“Do you need anything?” Tooru chokes out, his throat feeling dry.

Kaori looks between Tooru and Tobio, surprised by the sudden honorific. She stays silent, though, and Tooru is eternally grateful. Tooru picks up where Kaori left off, brushing Tobio’s bangs up and away from his forehead. 

Tooru doesn’t miss the way Tobio flinches and seems to squirm away from his touch. 

He immediately retracts his hand.

“No. I’m okay, senpai.”

“Tobio—”

“Senpai, when you asked me to go to Aoba Johsai with you, did you mean it?”

Tooru’s world comes to a screeching halt. His voice comes out in a hoarse, shocked whisper: “You remember that?”

Tobio looks him in the eye, a coldness present in his pupils that Tooru’s never seen before. “I remember everything, now.”

“I-I meant it,” Tooru says. “I wanted you to come to my school.”

“Then did you also mean it when you said you wanted to beat me?”

Tooru’s heart drops out of his body. He feels it shatter on the ground. 

“Well, I— w-wait, Tobio, that’s not—”

“Mama, when can I go home?” Tobio cuts Tooru off, his voice wavering. “I don’t want to be here right now.”

“As soon as you want, Honey. I can go to the front desk and get you discharged right now, if you want.”

“Yeah,” he says, voice cracking. It takes all of Tooru’s effort to not rush forward and pull Tobio into the tightest hug. “I just wanna go home. I don’t wanna be here right now.”

The dam breaks and tears leak out of the corners of Tobio’s eyes. He’s sobbing wholeheartedly and Tooru takes the hint, backing slowly out of the room. He walks down the chilly hallway, feeling like he left his heart back in the hospital room.

 _I suppose I really did, though_ , he muses to himself, feeling less amusement and more of a bone-deep exhaustion. _I left my heart with him_.

* * *

  
**Tooru-san <3 is calling Tobio<3**

**Tobio <3 declined the call from Tooru-san<3**

**Tooru-san <3 is calling Tobio<3**

**Tooru-san <3 is calling Tobio<3**

**(4 missed calls from Tooru-san <3)**

**Tobio <3 blocked Tooru-san<3**

* * *

Kageyama-kun: i remember

Tsukishima-kun: You remember what?

Tsukishima-kun: Your English grammar rules?

Kageyama-kun: no

Tsukishima-kun: How to be a decent human being?

Kageyama-kun: stop it

Kageyama-kun: everything

Kageyama-kun: i remember everything

Tsukishima-kun: ?

Tsukishima-kun: Explain.

Kageyama-kun: you were across the net from me the day i lost my memories

Kageyama-kun: you went to amemaru with that annoying wing-spiker with hte cross-shot to rival tanaka-san’s

Kageyama-kun: you had thsoe ugly blue uniforms that clashed wiht your hair

Tsukishima-kun: They were not ugly and they did not clash with my hair.

Kageyama-kun: and

Tsukishima-kun: ...and?

Kageyama-kun: i

Tsukishima-kun: ?

Kageyama-kun: idk

Kageyama-kun: just thought u sholud know

Kageyama-kun: idk

Tsukishima-kun: Are you alright?

Tsukishima-kun: I’ve never seen you this... frantic before. You’re making a lot more spelling mistakes than normal.

Tsukishima-kun: You’re not Hinata, you know.

Kageyama-kun: oikawa-san hates me

Tsukishima-kun: What?

Kageyama-kun: he nveer liked me to begin with.

Tsukishima-kun: That’s not true. You know it’s not true.

Kageyama-kun: even in middle school he hated the thought of me

Kageyama-kun: i remember h

Kageyama-kun: i

Tsukishima-kun: Take your time.

Kageyama-kun: i remember him trying to hit me in middle school once because he was annoyed

Tsukishima-kun: ??

Kageyama-kun: and yeah

Tsukishima-kun: So, you’re not alright…? 

Tsukishima-kun: Tell me the truth, Kageyama.

Kageyama-kun: ...

Kageyama-kun: no, i dont think i am…

Tsukishima-kun: what happened tobio

Kageyama-kun: he lied

Kageyama-kun: everything was a lie

Tsukishima-kun: now hold on a minute

Kageyama-kun: he isn

Kageyama-kun: he doesnt love me

Kageyama-kun: why wsa i so stupid

Tsukishima-kun: tobio

Kageyama-kun: nothing makes sense, tsukki

Kageyama-kun: why do i feel mroe lost than i ddi right after the accident?

**Tsukishima-kun is calling Kageyama-kun**

* * *

_Living without Tobio is like trying to breathe underwater_.

Tooru can’t breathe. He takes the bus to school. Hajime tugs him into the club room to change into their practice clothes. Tooru sets for the team. Tooru goes through the motions, like it’s somehow a normal day. Like pretending Tobio _isn’t gone_ is the way to keep going.

But Tooru _knows_. He can feel the warmth seeping from his chest. He can feel the way his fingers lock up whenever he’s trying to breathe through the pain. He can feel the empty hole in his chest that’s the exact size and shape of one Kageyama Tobio and he tries to remember how it felt when Tobio wasn’t in his life, and suddenly realizes, _shit, I don’t know how to live without him_.

It’s the seventh toss Tooru’s completely missed today. It hits the ground with a dull _thud_ , sailing high over Makki’s spiking arm. But the team doesn’t give him shit for it. Not even Hajime. They do give him concerned looks; maybe it’s because of the hollow look in Tooru’s eyes. Or maybe it’s the way he seems to close in on himself, hunching his back as if to make himself seem smaller. Or maybe it’s the way he seems to shiver randomly, like a cold breeze washed into the practice room.

 _Living without Tobio is like being lost_.

Tooru realizes this after waking up hours before his alarm clock one morning. He’s lost his sense of time without Tobio. His compass. His north star. Nothing seems to make sense anymore. He can’t look at his phone without wondering if a text from Tobio awaits him. He can’t stand at the bus stop without being tempted to take the next bus to Karasuno High School and beg for forgiveness. He can’t hear knocking on the front door without wondering if it’s Tobio coming back to say _I can’t live without you either, Tooru-san_.

Tooru wanders. He paces his room late at night. He goes for jogs through the park by his house. He walks aimlessly through the school halls after asking for a “bathroom break”. He takes more time-outs than ever during practices to sit down and try desperately not to think about Tobio.

Nothing ever works. It’s all futile. 

Because somehow, in just over a month, Tobio has inserted himself into Tooru’s life like a wooden stake in the heart. Tooru sees Tobio’s smile in the way the sun shines each morning. He hears Tobio’s laugh in the birds chirping. When Tooru wakes up, warm, and snuggled under too many blankets to be sane, he thinks of Tobio’s hands, which are always warm. The sky, the ground, the pictures in the hall, everything. Everything is Tobio.

And, the painful part is, it makes Tooru happy. For a split second, he’ll smile and feel a satisfied bubble build in his chest. But then he’ll remember that he doesn’t have Tobio anymore, and the bubble will burst, leaving sticky, soapy residue everywhere, and a sobbing Tooru to clean up the mess.

Hajime works overtime to keep Tooru together. Takeru has resorted to completely ignoring Tooru when he comes to pick him up from club volleyball practice every week. The coaches take over Tooru’s captainly duties for the time being, seeming to notice that Tooru’s in no state to keep the team running. His hands are never warm enough to make proper tosses—they’re all stiff and just barely passable. Honestly, one of the first years who just started playing setter is doing a better job than Tooru is.

 _Living without Tobio is learning to live without a piece of you_.

The carpet has been pulled out from underneath Tooru. He’s left with the whiplash of trying to deal with suddenly being alone. Tooru didn’t notice just how much he depended on Tobio. How much he _needed_ Tobio. How deeply Tobio’s roots sank into the sandy banks of Tooru’s shore.

When the roots were ripped away, the entire riverside fell victim to the torrents.

“You’ve managed to do both of what I told you not to do,” Hajime mumbles one night, from the floor of Tooru’s bedroom. “You can’t keep going like this.” 

Tooru mentioned having trouble sleeping. He’d go to sleep hours after finally crawling into bed, only to blink awake, craving for something he can’t have. Reaching across the bed for someone who was never there to begin with and would never be there again. Hajime took it upon himself to stay the night and find a way to get Tooru to sleep.

Tooru wants to laugh, scoff, cry, scream, all of the above. Instead, he curls more tightly into a ball beneath his blankets, and says, “it’s only been five days.”

Hajime sighs deeply and tiredly, from the bottom of his gut. 

“You can’t keep going like this,” he says again, sitting up and running his fingers through Tooru’s hair in an attempt to coax him to sleep.

Tooru agrees. He can’t keep going like this. But that doesn’t mean he’ll do anything about it.

He doesn’t go to sleep that night, either.

_It’s impossible to live without Tobio._

* * *

Chibi-chan: what the fuck did you do

Scary Setter: ??

Scary Setter: hinata-kun? what?

Chibi-chan: what did you do to kageyama

Chibi-chan: hes not been hismelf for two whole days ever since he wetn to see you after practice

Chibi-chan: so whta did you do

Chibi-chan: ddi you break up with him

Chibi-chan: did he fnid you cheating

Chibi-chan: there was an ambulance that went to seijoh the night he visited you

Chibi-chan: i swear to god i ddont care how short and tiny i ami will march right up to you and kick you in the balls if you hurt my best friend

Scary Setter: is he doing alright?

Chibi-chan: that doesnt answer any of my questions oikawa-san

Scary Setter: just

Scary Setter: please

Scary Setter: is he okay?

Chibi-chan: …

Chibi-chan: hes eating but barely. i dont think hes sleeping

Chibi-chan: his tosses are shit, too

Chibi-chan: hes quieter than normal, if thats even possible

Chibi-chan: but nothings gotten out of hand yet

Scary Setter: ok

Chibi-chan: iv been mankig sure he stays healthy

Scary Setter: thank you, hinata

Chibi-chan: ??

Chibi-chan: thats it??

Chibi-chan: r u fuckogin kiddingm e

Scary Setter: just… if he listens to you tell him to please call me?

Chibi-chan: and why should i

Scary Setter: he heard the tail end of a conversation that wouldve made more sense if he heard the full thing

Scary Setter: i want to explain myself but i cant get hold of him

Scary Setter: you dont have to tell him much

Scary Setter: just… make sure he knows i love him

Scary Setter: and that he knows ill be waiting for him to reach out

Chibi-chan: youre an asshole

Scary Setter: i know and im trying to fix it

* * *

It’s all swirling in front of his eyes. Like the foam of a tidal wave, crashing down on the beach. A terrifying force of nature disrupting the gentle footprints on the sand, the shells, the seaweed. 

Why did people find the sound of the ocean comforting? Tobio was caught in his own ocean, pulled out by the silent riptide of his feelings, only to be sent crashing back to reality when each eave of grief hit. Over and over and over again.

What did people see when they looked at Tobio? Did they see his blank face and think of the comfort of a beach at sunset? Or did they see the deadly waves that belie his upright manner?

Tobio keeps going. Because what else was he supposed to do? Break apart?

After the accident, when he woke up with nothing, Tobio had to keep going, too. When Grandpa and Miwa and volleyball were taken away, Tobio had to keep going. He found one thing, reunited with another, and mourned the other. Why was this incident any different?

( _Tobio knows the answer to that one—he knows the main difference: because he may have gained his old life back, but he lost the most important part of his new one_.)

He eats, but doesn’t really taste. He goes to class, but doesn’t learn anything. He goes to practice but can’t seem to focus. He sleeps, but not really. He lays down on his bed, facing the white ceiling and wondering when his room—and the entire world, in general—got so cold and prison-like.

( _He also knows the answer to that one: because Tooru’s warmth made the cold white feel like fluffy clouds on a windy spring day. Because Tooru turned the barren, empty wasteland into something beautifully simple. Because Tooru made everything better just by_ being _. And when faced with a world without him, everything goes back to being plain._ )

Plain. Everything is plain. Plain rice, plain uniform, plain bedroom walls, plain life. Tooru brought the vibrancy to a monochromatic world and Tobio can’t seem to discern the colors in the returning grey of his life. 

Tobio gets himself under a toss one day during a practice game. He glances around to asses the available players: Hinata running up for a minus, Asahi and Daichi in for a first-tempo quick, Nishinoya and Tanaka preparing to cover whoever the set goes to. Making a decision, Tobio sets to Daichi and—

—misses. _Completely_. The set flies over Daichi’s head and is much closer to Hinata than it is to Daichi but Hinata wouldn’t have been able to hit it because he was on a different timing and of course Nishinoya wasn’t expecting a weird toss so he didn’t cover and—

Tobio takes a deep breath, more for the rising ice in his chest than the annoyance welling up in his gut.

“Are you okay?” Daichi asks, eyes laced with the kind of concern Tobio has grown used to the past few days. He hadn’t told anyone what happened, but they all knew on a basic level. When Tooru’s ringtone stopped blasting from Tobio’s phone ten minutes before practice ended, and Tobio showed up to morning workouts with bags under his eyes and red, worried lips, they just _knew_.

“I’m… fine,” he says back, but the words feel like cotton in his mouth. Even to him, who wants to believe it more than anyone else in the room, it sounds like a plain lie.

“I think we’re gonna switch you out for Suga…” Daichi hesitantly says, as if he’s preparing for a tantrum.

And, in all honesty, Tobio does feel anger rising. But he’s too drained to do anything but nod and walk off the court. The entire team watches him go, incredulous at his voluntary surrender. Suga replaces him, and the weight in his chest becomes heavier.

Tobio takes his towel, drapes it over his head, and collapses on the bench. The sound of volleyballs bouncing—a sound that was once welcomed and loved, but now feels dull and lifeless—resumes on the court.

He pretends not to notice when Yamaguchi sits next to him and pulls his head onto a waiting shoulder. Yamaguchi doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move, doesn’t cheer for their team, barely even breathes. 

In that moment, Yamaguchi is an unmovable rock pillar, and Tobio is thankful. He needs an anchor when the rug has been pulled out from underneath him. He needs something to latch onto when his body feels like its floating through space, aimless and emotionless.

Tobio lets himself cry, quite possibly for the first time since the “breakup”. Tobio lets the towel soak up the tears he’d been too afraid to let loose. 

He lets his body shudder like a tree in a storm as Yamaguchi takes the full force of his sorrow.

* * *

Shou-chan: you should call him

Shou-chan: tobio-kun, he really wants to make things right

Tobio-kun: no.

* * *

Kei-kun: Are you sure you don’t want to hear him out?

Tobio-kun: i said no.

* * *

Kindaichi: are you doing alright?

Kindaichi: kageyama-kun?

Kageyama-kun: how did you find out

Kindaichi: oikawa-san hasn’t been himself for a while now

Kindaichi: he’s also been practicing on tuesdays and staying after practice on fridays, which i know is when you two usually hang out

Kageyama-kun: oh

Kindaichi: iwaizumi-san’s been yelling at him because he might overstrain his knee again

Kindaichi: you haven’t been mentioned once since he started acting this way

Kindaichi: process of elimination

Kageyama-kun: oh

Kindaichi: what about you?

Kageyama-kun: im

Kindaichi: you’re?

Kageyama-kun: im okay i guess

Kindaichi: what happened anyways?

Kageyama-kun: i got my memories back

Kindaichi: oh

Kageyama-kun: yeah

Kageyama-kun: i remember you, turnip-kun

Kindaichi: shut up

Kageyama-kun: i remember me drifting apart from you and kunimi-kun

Kindaichi: oh

Kageyama-kun: im sorry about that, by the way

Kindaichi: about what

Kageyama-kun: all the king stuff

Kindaichi: dude it’s fine i don’t blame you at all

Kageyama-kun: thanks

Kageyama-kun: i remember my grandpa dying

Kindaichi: kageyama

Kageyama-kun: and i remember how much oikawa-san hated me

Kindaichi: past tense

Kageyama-kun: does it matter?

Kindaichi: i think it does

Kageyama-kun: he tried to hit me once in junior high

Kindaichi: has he tried to hit you since?

Kageyama-kun: no

Kindaichi: well, there you go

Kageyama-kun: are you defending him?

Kindaichi: i’m just saying that people do stupid things when they’re young

Kindaichi: and he obviously regrets it

Kageyama-kun: how do you know

Kindaichi: because i’ve seen the way he looks at you and i know he really cares

Kindaichi: i see him beating a volleyball into the ground every day after practice and i know he wishes he could beat up himself for being so stupid

Kindaichi: i’m not telling you to forgive him

Kindaichi: that’s your own decision

Kindaichi: but if you’re staying away because you think the relationship was all fake then you’re wrong

Kindaichi: because the way oikawa-san loves you is the realest thing i’ve seen in awhile

Kageyama-kun: i cant get hurt again kindaichi

Kindaichi: i really don’t think he’s going to let you get hurt again

Kindaichi: he loves you too much to let that happen

Kageyama-kun: why are you even doing this

Kageyama-kun: you probably hated me more than he did in middle school

Kindaichi: none of us hated you, kageyama

Kindaichi: and i’m not doing this because oikawa-san asked me to or because i feel guilty about what happened in middle school

Kindaichi: i’m doing this because for once in your life you deserve to be happy and you deserve to feel loved by someone who won’t leave

Kindaichi: oikawa-san makes you happy

Kindaichi: oikawa-san loves you

Kindaichi: oikawa-san won’t disappear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter to go!!!
> 
> are y'all as excited as i am?!
> 
> anyways, what do you guys think about the format? i've changed the font for the texts just to give them more distinction from the actual story but idk if you guys like it


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And it all comes to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god here we are guys,,, the fINAL COUNTDOWNNNNN

> **Memories of Oikawa Tooru. On his last day of junior high school.**
> 
> Illuminating the day, the sun rested atop a generous covering of clouds, leaving the sky a silver-grey color. It might’ve been graduation day, but Tooru didn’t mind the gloomy weather.
> 
> Time didn’t seem to have a meaning anymore.
> 
> School was finally over, and Tooru would be moving on soon. He would once again be an underclassman, and would need to find his bearings once more. Moving to senior high school was like starting a new life.
> 
> “Are you going to miss junior high?” his mom sang gently, ruffling his hair like he was still a child. Like he wasn’t a few centimeters taller than her already, nearly an adult.
> 
> Cherry blossom petals drifted down from the trees reaching high above the courtyard, and Tooru watched the pale petals settle on the concrete, looking like a fresh layer of snow. Like the beauty of the blossoms, time was fleeting. Something that came and went as easily and steadily as the seasons.
> 
> Only after seeing the school nearly-empty after the graduation ceremony did Tooru realize that this was actually the end. He was never going to go back to Kitagawa Daiichi as a student again. He would never play alongside his team again. 
> 
> Living without the blues of Kitaichi’s uniform. Without Kindaichi and Kunimi’s antics. Without his classmates’ lunch invitations. Without Tobio-chan’s idolizing eyes following him on the court.
> 
> Did he really want to leave this place? Where so many memories would be left behind and forgotten?
> 
> “I’ll be back. I have to go to the bathroom first,” he told his mother, without really asking for permission.
> 
> He turned on his heel to walk back in the building, thanking his lucky stars that most of the students and parents had cleared out right after the closing ceremony. The halls were empty and silent, ringing only with the crisp click of his shoes meeting the floor as he walked. He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked straight past the bathrooms.
> 
> Every day he had been in the school, he only heard a cacophony of noise. There was always the chatter of students as they walked in the halls. The sounds of volleyballs hitting the gym floor. Some random class down the hall making a ruckus. Never had the school been this still; this lifeless; this empty.
> 
> _Reminiscing is so painful,_ Tooru mused, something aching in the deepest part of his chest as he stopped at the end of the hall. He glanced outside the large windows, watching the cherry blossoms fall, meeting their doom on the paved concrete of the courtyard.
> 
> Everything good came to an end, it seemed.
> 
> “Oikawa-san?”
> 
> “Oh?” Tooru turned around, meeting the gaze of his underclassman. “Tobio-chan. What are you doing here?”
> 
> He watched as the boy dipped his torso into a perfect, forty-five degree bow.
> 
> Every synapse in Tooru’s body told him to taunt the boy, to make fun of him and celebrate the feeling of finally having him bow to his superior. But Tobio’s sweet, genuine voice cut into his thoughts.
> 
> “Congratulations on your graduation.”
> 
> Casually—or at least, in an attempt to be casual—Tobio looked out the window at the pale cherry blossoms, a hand sheepishly brought to the back of his head.
> 
> At face value, this Tobio was very normal. He was a shy and polite kouhai… sometimes to the point of frustration.
> 
> Not to mention all the pleads for assistance after practice.
> 
> Tooru just nodded his head in a simple, polite bow back. 
> 
> “Thanks.”
> 
> Finding no other reason to stay, Tooru turned back the way he came.
> 
> It was weird how Tobio showed up at the perfect time when most others already left, especially the underclassmen. _Almost like he was waiting for—_
> 
> _No, that’s stupid, why would he—_ Tooru picked up the pace and shook his head to free them of the strange thoughts.
> 
> _Damn me and my overactive mind_.
> 
> “Wait! I— I have something to say to you…”
> 
> Waiting was never one of Tooru’s strong suits. Ever since he was a child he was always _go, go, go,_ and no one told him to stop. But something in Tobio’s voice compelled Tooru to hear him out.
> 
> A turn of his cheek brought Tooru to the image of Tobio, no longer bowed, but his chin still downturned to hide his eyes behind his bangs. There was a distinct hint of red blush on the apples of his cheeks and his whole body was trembling with something Tooru didn’t recognize.
> 
> Red still visible on his cheeks, Tobio lifted his chin with a determined look in his eyes. Steeling his shoulders, he strode forward in the empty hallway with his fists clenched by his sides.
> 
> Maybe Tooru should’ve turned back around and ran for the hills. Maybe he should’ve stopped to ask Tobio _just what the hell_ he was thinking of doing, but the words were stuck on Tooru’s tongue as he stared into those fierce little eyes that burned with the heat and passion of a blue flame. They compelled Tooru to stop in his tracks and turn so he was fully facing Tobio.
> 
> Tobio reached up, taking Tooru’s collar into both his fists and pulled the taller boy down to his level. And then he kissed him. Once, on the lips.
> 
> He pulled back before Tooru even had a chance to process what just occurred, releasing his fingers from his collar in the same moment so that Tooru stumbled back, wide-eyed and flailing.
> 
> “I like you, Oikawa-san! Congratulations again! I wish you all the best in high school!”
> 
> And he was off, a burst of speed taking him down the hall and around a corner before Tooru could get a single word out. He raised a hand to his lips, wondering why they tingled with an incomprehensible warmth.

* * *

Tobio is eternally grateful to his teammates, especially his fellow first-years. They’ve tried so hard to distract him and bring his spirits up after the incident that he nearly ends up forgetting the whole thing.

Emphasis on _nearly_.

On their free Tuesday—the Tuesday that used to be _Tooru & Tobio’s Tuesday _ but is not anymore—the first-years drag Tobio out to the town square by Shiratorizawa Hospital, hoping that something there could take Tobio’s mind off the pain for at least a day.

“What should we do?”

“You’re the one that dragged us out here today, Chibi.”

“What about a movie?”

“I don’t think Hinata-kun can sit still that long.”

“Rude, Tsukki-kun! And I totally can.”

“We shouldn’t come all the way here just to watch a movie. That’s pointless.”

“Well, what do _you_ suggest, then?”

“I mean, there’s a café that opened a few months ago on this block… we could go there?” Yamaguchi suggests, pointing down the street.

“I’m okay with that!” Hinata exclaims, grabbing onto Tobio’s sleeve and tugging him down the sidewalk. “Let’s go, Yamayama-kun. I’ll buy you something sweet at the café.”

“Okay,” Tobio says quietly, letting himself be pulled. He keeps his head down towards the brick-paved pathway as Hinata leads their little group to the café. But when he sees the aforementioned café pop up in the distance, Tobio feels his mouth run dry.

“Mika’s Café?” Hinata reads out the sign. “Is this it, Yama-kun?”

“Yes, this is the one,” Yamaguchi holds open the door. “They have really good western desserts here.”

Tobio is dragged inside to an empty table (thankfully not a booth), where the same waitress, Renyo is there to hand them some menus. She gives Tobio a quizzical look as she walks away, probably confused after not seeing him for a week—and without Tooru, to boot.

“I think I’ll try one of the muffins,” Hinata thinks aloud, practically vibrating in his seat next to Tobio. “I haven’t had chocolate in a while.”

“Thank God for that, because you probably would be jumping off the walls if you ate chocolate every day.”

“Tsukishima, you jerk!”

Renyo comes back with a notepad to take their orders. It’s quite amusing to see how well their orders mesh with their personalities. Hinata ends up ordering his chocolate muffin. Yamaguchi gets a small selection of pastries. Tsukishima orders a black coffee and… a slice of strawberry shortcake?

Renyo turns to Tobio, seemingly recognizing the empty look in his eyes. She sends him a small, comforting smile and taps on one of the listed desserts on the menu with a perfectly-manicured nail. “Would you like your usual, or do you want something different this time?”

“No, I’ll have my usual,” he proclaims, closing the menu and handing it back to her. He can feel his teammates’ eyes on him as he sends her a smile—probably his first genuine one in the past week. “Thank you, Renyo-san.”

She deftly collects the other three menus. “No problem, Tobio-kun.”

“You’ve been here before, Kageyama-kun?” Tsukishima asks, unable to hide the curiosity from seeping into his voice.

“Yeah, I used to come here every week. Multiple times a week, actually.”

“With…?” Yamaguchi trails off, the question left unfinished but not ambiguous. Tobio winces.

“Yeah… with… him.”

“I’m sorry, Kageyama-kun, I shouldn’t have suggested—”

“It’s okay, Yamaguchi-kun,” Tobio cuts off his frantic rambling before he can work himself into a frenzy, “there was no way for you to know if I didn’t tell you. Besides,” he glances out one of the café’s wide windows, relishing in the blue sky and sunlight that streams in. It still seems dull to Tobio, like a faded photograph. But he assumes that’s just because he had gotten used to the vibrancy of Tooru’s presence.

“I can’t let him have a monopoly on the happiness in my life… although it feels that way right now. I just have to find out who I am without him.”

The three other first-years are silent as Tobio continues to stare out the window. He whips his head back to them. “What?”

“Ehhh…” Tsukishima slumps in his seat, an expression Tobio had never seen plastered on his face before. He looks vaguely impressed, but also like he swallowed something sour. “When did you get so poetic with your words? I thought you sucked at Japanese Literature.”

“Ehhh?”

Yamaguchi’s face is full of empathy. “We’re glad you’re trying to be happy again. We all know how much you cared about Oikawa-san. It’s just kind of sad… I thought you guys were perfect for one another—”

Before he can get another word in, the bell at the front door rings, signalling another customer has arrived at the café. Tobio’s eyes lift upwards—

“Tobio…?”

—and then immediately glance away, refusing to make eye contact. He slumps in his seat, wondering if he was making his presence small enough to turn invisible.

“Kageyama-kun, are you…” Hinata’s gaze turns to the two patrons at the front door. “Oh.”

One of said patrons begins to walk towards their table. “Tobio, I—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Tooru-san,” Tobio stands up, swinging his school bag over one shoulder. He opens his wallet and places a few bills on top of the table to cover his abandoned order. “I think you’ve made your opinion of me _very_ clear.”

“Tobio, that wasn’t—”

Tobio turns and walks past him, using Yamaguchi and Tsukishima’s chairs as blockades in the thin gap between tables. Hinata scrambles to his feet to follow after Tobio and nearly knocks into Renyo, with the tray of their orders in her hands.

“Tobio, please wait—”

Tobio yanks open the door to the café, walking down the sidewalk towards the park. He needs fresh air and perhaps something to sit one; he feels like passing out. The lines of the shops were all blurring together and the ground swayed drunkenly under his feet.

The bricks on the sidewalk he walked with anticipation now make him feel queasy; was it always this many steps? Was the road always this long? He feels close to collapse.

_The park._

Tobio spots a bench underneath a flowering sakura and makes a beeline for it but Tooru cuts in front of him.

“Tobio. Can you _please_ just listen to me for a few seconds—”

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say to me,” he hisses, turning away, but a hand wraps around his wrist and holds him in place. To Tobio’s surprise, it is Tsukishima’s hand preventing him from taking off again.

“I know it hurts… he betrayed your trust,” Tsukishima begins, prodding gently at the wound none of the other first years have dared to go near, “but you were happier when you were with him. You should hear him out, Kageyama-kun.”

“Yes,” Hinata affirms, nodding his head vigorously, like that could convince Kageyama all on its own. “Please, just listen to his words once.”

Tobio feels betrayed. Thrown into the enemy’s lair by the people he trusted most. He almost lashes out at them, but then he sees the sincerity on their faces. The eyes that say they just want the best for him.

“Alright…” he concedes, albeit reluctantly. “I’ll listen. _Once_.”

“Thank you,” Tooru breathes out, and Tobio is struck with just how fatigued he looks.

His usually spotless complexion is pale and takes on a sickly-grey color. There are dark circles under his eyes and his hair is a barely-tamed mess. He’s more out-of-it than Tobio’s ever seen him look before.

“Don’t sound so relieved, Tooru-san. I haven’t forgiven you yet.”

“I know… but I hope you will, Tobio.”

Tobio steps closer—as close as he dares. He can feel Tsukishima, Hinata, and Yamaguchi’s presence behind him and he feels a surge of strength come to his voice.

“So,” he begins, the word feeling distasteful on his tongue, “you hated me in middle school.”

He can hear Hinata’s groans and Tsukishima’s quiet cry of ‘ _really?!_ ’ behind him, but he continues. He opened his mouth and now the rest will come pouring out. There’s no way of stopping it.

“You were talking about how much you couldn’t stand me in junior high.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Tooru pleads. “I know it sounded like that, but _please listen_. I didn’t like you in junior high school because I was jealous of your talent. I was petty and childish but I’ve grown.”

Tobio doesn’t respond, so Tooru keeps going. 

“And I want you to know that I don’t think of you like that anymore. I didn’t come up to you because I wanted a plaything. I didn’t start a relationship because I thought it would be funny. I approached you because I felt like I had abandoned you. I didn’t even know about the accident, and I thought I had failed you. I asked you out because you were still the same person I left at Kitaichi, but I found myself feeling happy instead of annoyed.”

“So, it was guilt?”

“Maybe at first,” Tooru admits. “But I didn’t _stay_ because of guilt. I stayed because I wanted to. With all my heart.”

“Why does this even matter?” Tobio anguishes, throwing open his arms. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I love you!” Tooru bursts out, the passion in his confession surprising even himself. “I love the way you bite at your lip whenever someone messes up in the volleyball games we watch together. I love watching your eyes light up whenever I buy you a dessert, even if it’s just something from the convenience store. I love how your hands are warm at night and cold during the day and I love the feel of them in my own. I love—”

“You’re rambling,” Iwaizumi mutters.

“I love you, Tobio,” Tooru lets out in a breath. Finality. Truth. He shudders in a gulp of air, hoping to regain his confidence in the process—the confidence that was once overflowing but now seems to be running dry. “I love you and I don’t want to let you go again.” 

Tooru reaches out, taking one of Tobio’s hands into his own. He wonders if the warmth he feels returning to his skin through those miniscule points of contact is just in his mind. “Please, Tobio. Let’s go back to the way it was before.”

“But I don’t want to go back to the way it was before,” Tobio admits, sniffling. The tears build up in his eyes and Tooru reaches up his free hand to rest on Tobio’s cheek, thumb poised to wipe away any tears that could fall. “I don’t want you to look at me and feel jealous. I don’t want to ask you for something and have you turn away. I don’t want us always trying to one-up each other—”

“Well, the other things I can stop doing, but the last one... I can’t promise anything,” Tooru says, chuckling slightly. “I want us to date again. I want us to be happy. I treated you like shit in middle school. Let me show you that I’ve changed.”

“I didn’t need you to change. I liked you the way you were. That’s why I confessed to you.”

“Then what’s the difference?” Tooru asks, desperate for an explanation and for the chance to explain himself at the same time. “I’m still me.”

“You hated me.”

“I didn’t hate you. I was just jealous. I still don’t hate you. Why can’t you believe me?”

“Because I didn’t know who I was when I woke up,” Tobio rasps, taking a step back, out of Tooru’s range. “And then you came into my life and gave it meaning. You gave the world color and you made it warm. And then I found out who you really were and it all went back to the beginning and it was like I lost it all over again.”

“I’m here,” Tooru says, taking a step forward.

Tobio’s hands are shaking— _why are they shaking?_

“I can’t lose everything again, Tooru. I’d go insane.”

“You’re not going to lose it because I’m not leaving this time,” Tooru pulls one of Tobio’s hands up to his lips and presses a kiss to his knuckles. “I’m not leaving you. I don’t think I could, even if I tried. _I’m here._ Right now. And tomorrow, I’ll still be here.”

A swell of overwhelming emotion washes down Tobio’s body. He feels his knees weaken and his composure starting to crack. Tobio drops his chin, hiding the tears that fall from his eyes. Tooru’s hands come to his face, swiping away the moisture with his thumbs.

“Hey,” he mumbles out, bending his head down a bit so he was eye-level with Tobio, “why are you crying? Do I make you that unhappy?”

“No, you don’t,” Tobio shakes his head frantically. “That’s why I’m crying. I can’t believe you can make me this happy, Tooru.”

“Can I kiss you, Tobio?”

Tobio doesn’t give him an answer and instead surges forward to press his lips to Tooru’s, completely unapologetic about the sorry state of his crying face. Tooru doesn’t seem to care, however, and simply wraps his arms around Tobio, enveloping him in a warmth that burns like a thousand suns.

When Tobio pulls away, reluctant, and only for the sake of public decency, the first thing he notices is how vibrantly pink the blush is on Tooru’s cheeks.

It’s quite perplexing how the color returned to Tooru’s face so quickly, changing him from a tired, greying, frail human to a creature so magnificent it makes the blush on Tobio’s cheeks turn pink to mirror Tooru’s.

Tobio’s never seen such a color on Tooru, and wonders just where it came from. It perfectly matches the gleam in his eyes and the smile he wears only for Tobio’s eyes to see; his _real_ smile.. He hopes to see the same smile tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that.

Real things don’t disappear. Real things never leave. _Tooru will never disappear._

“I love you,” Tooru says, his eyes burdened with thousands of promises yet to be made; with love and happiness and acceptance and everything that is _real_ and _right_. He smiles and Tobio is convinced that everything will be alright.

Tobio leans back in to kiss the smile off his face.

“I love you,” Tooru reaffirms.

Tobio believes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's over?? Oh my god this doesn't feel real. I started working on this in October when it was supposed to be a single chapter. but then I couldn't stop writing and it grew much faster than I could handle.
> 
> Thanks for all the support, for the emotional breakdowns, for enjoying the fluffy times. I'm so happy you guys loved this fic because I sure loved writing it (and my editors/betas _loved_ editing it—like seriously, I got so many late-night texts fangirling about the first kiss).
> 
> I'm working on a few Oikage concepts right now but none caught my interests as quickly or as easily as this one did, so I can't say for certain when I'll post the next one. But because of quarantine, I'll surely be posting a lot. So stay tuned!
> 
> We love you all! Stay safe!
> 
> From your writers and editors,  
> the palmsandsunshine trio  
> Eah/Mii/Jii
> 
> Work officially finished May 12, 2020.


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